J 


GEORGE  C.  SHEDD 


THE   INCORRIGIBLE 
DUKANE 


OF  CJLT.TF.    LIBRARY,    LOS  ANGELES 


"  Come  help  me  find  my  will  " 


See  page  /or 


THE  INCORRIGIBLE 
DUKANE 


BY 

GEORGE  C.  SHEDD 

AITHOR  OF  "THE  PRINCESS  OF  FORQE,"  ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED    BY 
STANLEY  L.  WOOD 


BOSTON 

SMALL,    MAYNARD    AND    COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT,  1911 

BY  SMALL,  MATNAKD  AND  COMPANY 
(INCORPORATED) 


Entered  at  Stationert'  Hall 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I  THE  BLOODY  FIELD  OF   MELTON     ...       1 

II     SILVER  PEAK 23 

III  DUKANE  IN  FETTERS 44 

IV  ONE  RESULT  OF  A  SHOT 71 

V     A  MAGICIAN'S  CAVE 95 

VI     CHAMPION  OF  THE  WEAK 120 

VII     BY  THE  RIVER 146 

VIII     UNDER  THE  CHIEF'S  THUMB 170 

IX     FIRST  MOVE  IN  THE  PLOT 192 

X  AN  UNOFFICIAL  EXAMINATION    .      .      .      .214 

XI     THE  COUNTER-STROKE 235 

XII     A  COUNCIL  OF  WAR 258 

XIII     A  NEW  CHIEF  IN  COMMAND 280 

XIV    THE  SKIRMISH 300 

XV     THE  BATTLE 322 

XVI  A  NEW  REGIME                                               .   343 


2132920 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

"COMB     HELP    ME     FIND     MY    WILL." 

See  page   101 Frontispiece 

PAGE 

IT  CRACKED  LIKE  A  RIFLE  A  FEW  INCHES  BEFORE 
LANTRY'S  NOSE 108 

"HERE,    PUT   THAT    UP;    WE    DON'T   WANT   ANY 
SHOOTIN',"  LANTRY  SAID 244 

IN  THEIR  MIDST  STRODE  LANTRY  AND  CORBETSON  310 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  BLOODY  FIELD   OF   MELTON 


green  tail-lights  of  the  train  flickered, 
-*•  faded,  then  with  a  sudden  mischievous 
wink  altogether  disappeared;  the  last  puffing 
of  the  engine  was  like  a  hoarse  chuckle. 

"Dumped  in  a  puddle  at  eleven  o'clock  at 
night,"  Jimmy  Dukane  vociferated  resentfully. 

In  the  caravan  just  departed  there  was 
everything  to  comfort  the  soul,  to  cheer  the 
mind,  and  moisten  the  palate  —  bright  lights, 
snug  chairs,  jolly  companions,  a  well-stocked 
buffet.  Here  ?  —  what  the  deuce  was  here  any- 
way except  water?  He  faced  about.  Water 
dripped  from  the  eaves  under  which  he  stood; 
water  fell  in  large  slow  drops  from  a  leak 
somewhere  overhead  into  the  upturned  col- 
lar of  his  silk  raincoat;  water  in  the  form 
of  a  warm  drizzle  saturated  the  night  as 
steam  fills  a  Turkish  bath.  A  few  misera- 
ble beams  of  light  escaped  through  the  dingy 
depot  window  out  upon  the  wet  platform  and 


gleamed  glassily  along  the  rails ;  some  distance 
away  in  front  of  him  glowed  half  a  dozen 
misty,  luminous  balls  like  swamp-lanterns, 
which  he  surmised  to  be  windows. 

"The  governor  stung  his  son  and  heir  this 
time,"  he  remarked  in  immense  disgust. 

James  A.  Dukane,  Sr.  had,  so  to  speak, 
brought  down  his  fist  on  the  table  with  a  bang ; 
James  A.  Dukane,  Jr.  had  been  under  the  fist 
and  his  eyes  popped  open  very  wide  indeed.  It 
befell  thus:  Dukane  and  Company, — New 
York,  Pittsburg,  Chicago,  Denver,  Salt  Lake 
and  San  Francisco — was,  as  its  numerous  of- 
fices indicated,  a  large  and  extensive  firm. 
Concrete  was  flesh  on  its  bones,  concrete  the  tis- 
sue of  its  brain,  concrete  construction  the  breath 
which  issued  from  its  body.  The  Dukane 
company  would  take  up  a  bucketful  of  con- 
crete and  build  you  anything  your  heart  de- 
sired and  your  mind  conceived  if  your  pocket- 
book  could  pay  for  it,  from  a  canal-lock  to  a 
sea-wall,  from  a  bridge  to  a  three-hundred  foot 
chimney,  from  a  reservoir  dam  to  a  light-house, 
a  subway,  a  sky-scraper,  or  a  ten-acre  factory 
— and  it  generally  had  half  a  dozen  of  these 
going  at  once.  James  A.  Dukane,  Sr.  was 
the  dominating  will  and  soul  of  the  company; 


THE  BLOODY  FIELD  OF  MELTON        3 

into  whatever  construction  was  undertaken  he 
wove  the  fiber  of  his  nerve  as  wire  netting  is 
incorporated  in  a  floor ;  he  stirred  his  bold  ideas 
in  the  mixer ;  he  reinforced  walls  with  his  back- 
bone; and  into  rock,  gravel,  mud  or  water,  he 
strode  fearlessly  where  others  faltered.  So 
much  for  Dukane  senior. 

Dukane  junior,  knew  nothing  about  con- 
crete, except  that  it  did  not  suit  his  taste — a 
noisy  business,  with  men  yelling  around  der- 
ricks and  dumping  great  buckets  of  gray  stuff 
like  half-cooked  calves'  brains  into  huge 
moulds,  while  squat  little  engines  chugged 
frantically.  Besides,  the  governor  was  mak- 
ing plenty  of  money  for  them  both.  Jimmy 
was  twenty-six,  rather  stocky  in  build,  with 
sparkling  black  eyes,  a  rosy  cheek,  crisp,  wavy 
black  hair  and  a  flashing  smile.  At  his  univer- 
sity he  had  been  considered  to  take  things 
"on  the  bounce";  during  the  three  years 
since,  he  had  continued  to  take  them  very  much 
on  the  bounce,  whether  by  fattening  the 
"bookies,"  or  by  frisking  at  Palm  Beach,  or 
screaming  up  the  river  in  his  automobile,  or 
pursuing  those  radiant,  illusive,  bright-eyed 
beings  who  have  their  orbit  between  the  thea- 
ters and  the  lobster-palaces  on  Broadway.  He 


4  THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

looked  as  if  built  of  India  rubber,  and  his  elas- 
ticity confirmed  the  appearance ;  for  there  could 
be  no  two  opinions — he  truly  took  things  on 
the  bounce.  How  then  join  rubber  to  con- 
crete? 

Money  was  forthcoming  for  his  needs  but 
with  an  accompaniment  of  admonitions — which 
grew  to  warnings — which  grew  to  commands. 
Wrath  veiled  the  brow  of  Dukane  senior,  as 
clouds  darken  Olympus:  he  bided  his  time. 
Once  for  all  now,  he  finally  decided,  he  would 
make  or  break  that  incorrigible  good-for-noth- 
ing, his  son. 

This  resolve  on  the  part  of  his  father  the 
younger  Dukane  should  have  deduced  as  in- 
evitable, but  did  not.  Admonitions,  warnings, 
commands, — all  slid  off  his  back  as  do  rain- 
drops off  an  industrious  young  gander.  For 
he  was  very  busy, — he  himself  said  so,  with  a 
wrinkle  marking  his  forehead.  The  blow  fell 
at  a  most  unfavorable  season  and  in  a  most 
discomfiting  fashion.  Just  why  he  and 
"Pussy"  Van  Orsden  and  Fred  Cartwright, 
rich  young  fellows  like  himself,  had  gone  to 
California,  he  could  not  have  clearly  explained; 
the  origin  of  the  expedition  had  to  do  with  a 
dispute  which  arose  among  them  as  to  whether 


THE  BLOODY  FIELD  OF  MELTON        5 

figs  grew  on  thistles:  a  dispute  inspired  by 
much  champagne,  and  in  order  to  settle  the 
question  Pussy  had  ordered  his  father's  private 
car  hooked  on  a  train  and  they  thereupon  set 
out  to  the  land  where  figs  flourished.  Figs, 
they  discovered,  did  not  grow  on  thistles ;  never- 
theless they  had  two  weeks  of  a  very  lively  time. 
It  was  on  the  third  occasion  of  Jimmy's  draw- 
ing heavy  funds  through  the  San  Francisco 
office  (he  admitted  that  he  had  caromed  rather 
briskly  of  late  against  the  parental  cushion) 
that  the  concrete  fist  smashed  down  on  rubber. 

Followed  swift  interchange  of  telegrams: 
full  and  soothing  explanations  from  the  Pa- 
cific; hot,  fervid,  stormy  orders  from  the  At- 
lantic. The  prodigal  was  peremptorily  com- 
manded to  return  to  New  York ;  then  this  edict 
was  cancelled  and  he  was  directed  to  report  to 
the  San  Francisco  office. 

"I  have  here  an  order,"  the  manager  of  that 
branch  informed  him,  "to  set  you  to  work  at 
once — to  send  you,  for  a  starter,  to  examine 
the  construction  of  the  Silver  Peak  dam,  after 
which  you  will  go  to  New  York  and  file  your 
statement.  Here  are  a  railroad  ticket  to  Mel- 
ton, the  nearest  station,  a  pullman  ticket  and 
one  hundred  dollars." 


6  THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

Dukane,  junior,  bounced  out  of  his  chair. 

"One  hundred  dollars — one  hundred  pea- 
nuts !  What  fun  can  a  fellow  have  on  a  penny 
— and  me  make  a  report !  The  governor  waxes 
humorous.  Ill  wire  him  again." 

"No  use.  He  sailed  to-day  for  a  month's 
absence  abroad.  This  is  final." 

Jimmy  digested  this  last  news  for  a  period 
of  ten  seconds. 

"I'm  shot  through  a  wing,"  said  he.  "Per- 
haps I  can  sell  my  report  to  the  comic  papers. 
And  all  of  a  hundred  dollars — I  can  never 
spend  it  in  this  life-time.  Well,  give  me  the 
powder,  I'll  send  up  a  last  rocket  and  come 
back  with  concrete  on  my  hair  and  fingers. 
Do  you  stick  your  head  in  the  bucket  when 
making  an  examination?" 

This  ridicule  the  manager  ignored.  "Would 
you  like  to  see  your  father's  last  telegram?" 
he  inquired,  with  the  flicker  of  a  smile. 

"To  be  sure.  Dad's  always  interesting, 
even  when  pettish." 

The  other  handed  him  a  yellow  sheet.  It 
read: 

"Will  be  a  month  in  London,  make  him 
work  or  let  him  starve — James  A.  Dukane." 

The  youth  returned  the  sheet. 


THE  BLOODY  FIELD  OF  MELTON        7 

"Shot  through  both  wings,"  said  he;  and 
departed. 

Now  here  he  was  at  Melton,  somewhere  in 
the  desert  of  Nevada  where  it  "never  rained." 
Was  that  black  space  between  him  and  the 
globular  blurs  of  light  a  street,  a  swamp,  or 
a  river? 

At  his  elbow  a  voice  spoke. 

"Lend  me  a  quarter,  Mister,  for  a  bite  and  a 
bed." 

Ordinarily  Jimmy  would  have  given  him  a 
coin;  but  now  he  was  displeased,  not  at  the 
hobo,  not  at  the  rainy  night,  but  at  a  certain 
gentleman  of  the  same  name  as  himself  who 
that  very  minute  was  voyaging  across  the  At- 
lantic in  splendid  luxury. 

"Nothing  doing;  I've  only  fifty  dollars- 
broke  myself." 

"Only  a  quarter — " 

"Beat  it,  child  of  darkness!" 

Seizing  his  traveling  bag  he  started  for  the 
lights  opposite,  while  a  stream  of  curses  fol- 
lowed him  from  the  tramp.  The  street  he  had 
to  cross  was  not  quite  a  swamp,  nor  yet  a  river, 
but  there  were  mire,  pools  and  puddles;  when 
he  came  into  the  dingy  little  hotel,  he  was 
soaked  and  bedraggled  to  the  knees,  while  his 


8  THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

disposition  was  not  improved.  Over  the  small 
counter  a  coatless,  puffy-faced,  unshaven  man 
sprawled. 

"I  would  like  a  room  with  a  bath,"  Jimmy 
said,  sweetly. 

"And  a  piano,  perhaps,  and  flowers  in 
the  morning."  The  man  eyed  him  belliger- 
ently. 

Discretion,  Jimmy  concluded,  was  the  better 
part  of  valor.  He  invited  the  man  to  join 
him  in  a  drink,  which  smoothed  their  acquaint- 
ance to  a  more  amiable  intercourse.  When 
they  returned  from  the  barroom,  Jimmy  ob- 
served that  the  tramp  who  had  accosted  him 
upon  the  depot  platform  had  put  in  an  appear- 
ance in  the  barren  tobacco-scented  office  and 
occupied  a  corner  chair.  It  was  a  nasty  night ; 
he  felt  in  his  pocket  for  some  small  coins,  but 
found  none,  remembering  that  he  had  given 
the  last  to  his  sleeping  car  porter. 

"You  get  the  bridal-chamber — only  room 
with  a  window  to  the  front,"  the  proprietor 
addressed  Dukane,  leading  him  across  to  a 
door.  "If  you  need  a  bath,  kick  loose  the 
screen  and  step  out  into  the  rain."  And  with 
a  huge  guffaw  the  man  went  back  to  his 
counter. 


THE  BLOODY  FIELD  OF  MELTON         9 

There  was  a  window  and  there  was  a  screen ; 
the  window  was  up,  for  the  night  was  sultry, 
and  an  invisible  insect  buzzed  at  intervals  along 
the  screen.  A  strip  of  stained  wTall-paper  de- 
pended from  the  ceiling;  the  wash-stand,  on 
which  stood  the  smoky  lamp,  had  a  washbowl, 
chipped  pitcher  and  an  ancient  cake  of  soap; 
a  few  nails  had  at  some  time  been  driven  in 
one  wall  for  hooks. 

He  locked  the  door.  Meditatively  remov- 
ing his  clothes  he  folded  them  upon  the  foot- 
rail  of  the  bed  and  donned  his  pajamas.  He 
laid  himself  between  the  blankets — ye  gods, 
blankets  in  summer  time! — and  continued  to 
meditate.  For  rubber,  it  appeared,  was  after 
all  about  to  be  joined  to  concrete;  which  was 
deserving  of  reflection.  Through  the  thin 
shell  of  the  wall  he  could  hear  the  noise  made 
by  maudlin  patrons  of  the  barroom;  presently 
he  distinguished  close  at  hand  the  proprietor 
driving  forth  the  hobo  into  the  street.  He 
considered  how  it  would  feel  to  sleep  on  a  wet 
street;  it  was  bad  enough  on  musty  straw. 
The  tramp's  feet  sounded  along  the  board 
walk,  paused  by  his  window  a  moment,  then 
passed.  Jimmy  held  communion  with  himself 
on  numerous  subjects,  for  he  had  not  been  to 


10          THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

bed  so  early  in  many,  many  moons.  Outside, 
the  drip  of  water  continued  in  a  subdued  noc- 
turne; on  the  rusty  screen  the  insect  buzzed 
its  lonesome  lament. 

When  he  opened  his  eyes  it  was  still  to  the 
sound  of  dripping  water,  but  the  insect  had 
folded  its  wings  and  retired.  Gray  light  of 
day  stood  in  the  window;  a  faint  rattle  of 
dishes  sounded  from  somewhere  near;  he  sat 
up  yawning  and  running  his  fingers  through 
his  hair.  All  at  once  he  bounced  out  upon  the 
floor.  Where  were  his  clothes,  where  his 
traveling  bag.  At  his  feet  lay  a  bunch  of  wet 
objects  resembling  rags  and  two  lumps  of 
mud — vile  trousers,  sodden  shirt  and  coat, 
shapeless  hat,  shoes.  He  ran  to  the  door,  un- 
locked it,  put  his  head  forth. 

"Here  you,  I've  been  robbed!"  he  cried. 

A  pallid,  thin-lipped  individual,  with  head 
shaven  to  the  smoothness  of  a  billiard  ball, 
stood  behind  the  desk. 

"Room  paid  for?" 

"No,  I've  been  robbed,  I  say.  Screen  taken 
out." 

"Well?" 

Jimmy  fairly  danced. 

"Don't  'well'  me!"  he  shouted. 


THE  BLOODY  FIELD  OF  MELTON      11 

"Room  not  paid  for  and  robbed.  Old  stall 
— won't  work." 

"By  heaven,  I'll  teach  you!" 

Jimmy  in  a  rage,  indifferent  to  all  but  the 
shiny-pated  man  who  insinuated  that  he  was  a 
liar,  rushed  back  to  the  heap  on  the  floor, 
jerked  the  dirty  garments  on  over  his  pajamas, 
thrust  his  feet  into  the  lumps  of  mud,  slapped 
the  disreputable  hole-pierced  hat  upon  his  head 
and  bounced  out  into  the  office. 

The  man  had  come  from  behind  the  desk, 
while  a  second  individual  had  joined  him,  a 
low-browed  fellow  wearing  a  soiled  apron  tied 
about  his  waist  and  carrying  one  hand  behind 
his  back. 

"You  damnable  nest  of  robbers!"  Jimmy 
roared. 

"See  that  door?"  the  thin-lipped  man  re- 
sponded. "Climb  through  a  window  into  our 
bed,  will  you?  Out  you  go!" 

He  reached  for  Jimmy.  The  latter's  fist 
caught  him  on  the  jaw,  staggering  him.  A 
moment  of  flying  arms,  ducking  heads  and 
whirling  bodies  followed,  a  struggle  cyclonic 
in  character  with  Jimmy  as  the  axis ;  then  the 
youth  had  a  brief  vision  of  an  uplifted  beer 
bottle  in  the  hand  of  the  man  who  wore  the 


12          THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

apron,  which  was  succeeded  by  a  stream  of 
stars  and  lightnings,  then  swift  darkness. 

There  is  a  tale  of  a  certain  magic  carpet 
which  bore  its  possessor  at  will  about  the  do- 
main of  Arabia  or  elsewhere;  but  the  singular 
property  of  eliminating  space  which  this  won- 
derful rug  held  has  never  been  clearly  ex- 
plained or  understood.  A  similar  and  star- 
tling transversion  of  distance,  a  dip  into  the 
Fourth  Dimension,  as  it  were,  occurred  in  the 
case  of  young  Dukane — only  there  was  no  car- 
pet. He  seemed  to  wink  for  one  instant,  then 
he  found  to  his  astonishment  that  he  sat  in  a 
puddle  in  the  street.  One  of  his  hands  was 
pressed  to  his  head,  his  lips  were  shaped  to  a 
round  O  of  exclamation,  while  the  seat  of  his 
ragged  trousers  was  very,  very  wet;  mud 
smeared  his  person  and  his  face,  blood  and  mud 
adorned  one  cheek  in  a  fashion  to  stir  the  color- 
ful soul  of  an  Indian  chief  about  to  don  his 
war-paint  and  one  eye  was  puffed  and  black- 
ened. 

"Whew,  did  the  boiler  blow  up?"  he  asked 
himself.  He  had  been  bounced  very  hard 
indeed. 

A  throbbing  pain  under  the  egg-like  lump 
on  which  his  hand  rested  recalled  the  vision  of 


THE  BLOODY  FIELD  OF  MELTON       13 

the  lifted  bottle.  An  empty  beer  bottle  may 
prove  both  useful  and  dangerous;  he  fingered 
his  cranium  tenderly  to  discover  if  there  were  in 
it  any  crevice  or  chasm.  Finally  he  climbed 
to  his  feet  and  crossed  to  the  depot,  where  he 
asked  for  a  telegraph  blank,  but  the  agent  ey- 
ing him  with  disfavor  inquired  if  he  had  money 
to  pay  for  the  dispatch  of  a  message.  Jimmy 
discussed  with  him  the  ethics  of  C.  O.  D.  tele- 
grams, discussed  the  subject  vigorously,  only 
to  retire  in  defeat  to  a  window  of  the  waiting 
room  where  he  whistled  softly  and  ruminated 
upon  the  rudeness  of  railway  employees.  The 
reflection  of  his  face  in  the  glass  caught  his 
eye:  it  was  a  startling  but  not  handsome  face; 
it  was  not  the  face  of  anyone  whom  he  had 
ever  known;  it  was  a  totally  strange,  disrep- 
utable, dilapidated,  depraved,  villainous  face, 
it  was  a  face  to  ponder.  Withdrawing  from 
the  depot  he  mounted  one  of  several  freight 
cars  that  stood  on  a  siding  and  on  its  top  cast 
up  accounts. 

Presently  a  passenger  train  thundered  into 
the  station  and  took  water  from  the  wavside 

«/ 

tank  before  proceeding  on  its  journey.  He 
considered  the  advisability  of  boarding  it,  but 
recollected  the  evil  face  that  had  confronted 


14*          THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

him  in  the  window;  railroads  are  not  lenient 
with  hoboes.  As  the  train  wheels  began  to 
move  the  door  of  the  freight  car  on  which  he 
sat  was  flung  back,  a  figure  leaped  forth  and 
ran  towards  the  departing  passenger.  Upon 
the  head  of  the  man  rested  a  derby  hat,  a  silk 
raincoat  fluttered  about  his  body  and  he  car- 
ried a  smart  hand-bag.  At  sight  of  this  fa- 
miliar paraphernalia,  a  yell  burst  from  Jimmy's 
lips;  he  scrambled  down  the  iron  rungs  of  the 
car,  gave  chase,  but  the  man  was  already 
aboard,  the  train  was  now  moving  rapidly  and 
a  mocking  hand  waved  at  him. 

"The  blue  ribbon  is  mine — I  beat  all  comers 
in  the  idiot  class,"  said  he,  disgustedly. 

The  rest  of  the  day  was  what  Dukane 
junior  very  properly  designated  dull.  M el- 
ton  was  not  a  populous  habitation ;  it  comprised 
the  depot,  water  tank,  the  dingy  hotel,  a  Chi- 
nese restaurant,  three  saloons,  a  livery  stable, 
two  empty,  windowless  buildings,  a  board  walk 
and  a  pump.  In  the  trough  under  the  spout 
of  the  pump  he  washed  his  battered  face  and 
performed  such  a  toilet  as  is  possible  with  mere 
fingers.  During  the  afternoon  he  tried  to 
steal  unobserved  upon  a  west-bound  train,  but 
was  kicked  off  by  an  unsympathetic,  burly 


THE  BLOODY  FIELD  OF  MELTON       15 

Erakeman.  Then  for  a  time  he  watched  the 
station-agent  at  work  in  a  box-car,  at  rather 
curious  work.  The  man  cut  the  cords  of  bags 
of  cement  stamped  with  red  lettering  and 
poured  the  fine  grayish  powder  into  other  bags 
printed  with  blue  lettering,  which  he  sewed  up 
with  needle  and  twine.  Jimmy  approached 
the  car  and  leaned  elbows  upon  the  door  sill. 

"I'm  not  fond  of  red  either,"  he  remarked, 
friendlily. 

The  agent  whirled  about  with  a  palpable 
start,  a  shadow  of  fear  on  his  face,  then  cursed 
him  fiercely. 

Jimmy  retired;  nevertheless  he  remained 
mystified  as  to  why  cement  was  better  in  blue 
than  in  red-lettered  bags.  He  would  some  day 
put  the  question  to  his  father,  who  knew  all 
that  was  to  be  known  about  cement.  Mean- 
while the  drizzle  fell  steadily.  At  supper  time 
he  walked  back  and  forth  upon  the  board  walk, 
where  the  odors  emanating  from  the  kitchen 
tantalized  his  nostrils.  He  was  of  the  opinion 
that  he  could  eat  even  cabbage — and  he  loathed 
cabbage,  a  food  fit  only  for  goats.  That  night 
he  dreamed  he  was  about  to  dine  with  Pussy 
and  Fred  Cartwright  at  Sherry's,  but  as  he 
sat  at  table  something  was  continually  press- 


16          THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

ing  on  his  shoulders,  while  the  waiter  held 
his  nose  with  thumb  and  forefinger  grinning 
at  him ;  then  he  awoke  to  find  that  it  was  only 
the  bottom  of  the  box  car  where  he  had  sought 
repose  which  made  his  shoulder  blades  ache 
and  instead  of  a  waiter  clutching  his  proboscis 
he  was  sniffling  with  a  heavy  cold. 

"And  I  never  even  got  a  mouthful  of  that 
supper,"  he  groaned,  vainly  seeking  a  more 
comfortable  position. 

Next  morning  he  went  into  the  depot  wait- 
ing room  for  warmth;  his  head  felt  like  one 
of  the  cabbages  he  hated ;  he  sniffled  much,  for 
he  had  no  handkerchief.  The  agent  eyed  him 
through  his  ticket  window  with  strong  disap- 
proval and  coldly  denied  his  request  for  food. 
It  was  some  time  later,  after  the  man  had  gone 
forth  to  continue  his  transfer  of  the  contents 
of  the  cement  bags,  that  a  bright-eyed,  brown- 
haired  little  woman,  with  a  child  clinging  to 
her  skirt,  brought  him  a  plate  of  bread  and 
a  steaming  cup  of  coffee. 

"I  heard  you  ask,"  she  said.  "We  live 
upstairs  and  I  sometimes  relieve  my  husband 
at  the  key.  You're  really  hungry,  aren't 
you?" 

Jimmy  experienced  a  sensation  such  as  he 


THE  BLOODY  FIELD  OF  MELTON       17 

might  have  felt  if  he  beheld  an  angel  descend- 
ing from  Heaven  with  food  on  a  golden 
platter. 

"I'm  so  hungry  I  could  gnaw  the  stove,"  he 
responded,  cheerfully. 

With  sincere  and  ardent  thanks  he  received 
the  proffered  breakfast  and  devoured  it  to  the 
last  crumb  and  final  drop.  The  little  woman 
remained  awhile  chatting. 

"You've  been  hurt,"  she  said.  She  stood 
with  one  hand  on  her  hip,  the  other  holding 
the  empty  plate  and  cup. 

"I'm  a  horrible  example  of  what  awaits  a 
hasty  tongue.  The  keeper  of  the  tavern  and 
his  bar-keeper  nearly  slew  me  because  I  re- 
sented being  robbed.  But  after  all,  they  were 
not  to  blame,  for  a  tramp  stole  my  clothes  out 
of  a  window  and  left  me  these  that  you  see  me 
in.  I'll  now  study  over  the  perplexing  prob- 
lem of  where  I  can  find  a  dinner — I've  four 
hours  to  do  it  in.  I'll  see  if  I  can't  invent  a 
way  to  make  the  hotel  man  provide  me  with  a 
meal." 

But  dinner  was  to  come  from  an  unexpected 
source.  About  noon  two  six-horse  teams 
pulled  down  the  hill  north  of  Melton,  their 
wheels  solid  disks  of  mud,  and  drew  up  be- 


18          THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

fore  the  car  of  cement,  where  bags  began  to 
be  loaded  into  them.  This  was  the  nearest  ap- 
proach to  excitement  (not  counting  what  he 
had  participated  in)  Dukane  had  experienced, 
so  thither  he  bent  his  way.  He  was  now  an 
investigator  of  matters  concrete ;  he  would  ob- 
serve concrete  in  the  process  of  transporta- 
tion. 

A  large  red-faced  man  with  a  shoe-brush 
mustache  was  speaking  when  he  arrived  upon 
the  scene. 

"We  need  men  bad.     Can't  get  'em." 

"There's  a  'bo  you  might  take  along,"  said 
the  agent,  tossing  a  bag  into  the  wagon  and 
nodding  towards  Dukane.  "I'm  sick  of  see- 
ing him  round  here." 

"Same  to  you,"  Jimmy  returned,  promptly. 

The  driver  of  the  wagon  faced  about  and 
regarded  him. 

"I'll  take  anybody,  even  a  hobo,"  he  said  at 
length.  "Here,  do  you  want  a  job?  Two 
dollars  a  day  and  board?  How  about  your 
dinner?" 

"Are  you  inviting  me  to  join  you?"  Dukane 
inquired  politely. 

"Yes,  soon  as  the  horses  are  'tended  to." 

The  wagon-boxes  were  loaded,  the  teams 


THE  BLOODY  FIELD  OF  MELTON       19 

were  soon  unbridled  and  their  noses  buried  in 
oat-filled  nose-bags. 

"Come  along,"  said  the  man. 

Satisfied  as  a  pup  who  has  the  prospect  of 
a  meaty  bone  before  him  Jimmy  followed  the 
two  drivers,  the  red-faced  one  who  introduced 
himself  as  Martin  and  the  other  who  answered 
to  the  sobriquet  of  Shorty,  to  the  Chinese 
restaurant.  After  his  previous  day's  fast,  the 
bread  and  coffee  given  him  by  the  agent's  wife 
had  only  served  to  whet  his  appetite.  Upon 
steak,  potatoes,  turnips  and  apple  pie,  he 
therefore  descended  silently  and  capaciously. 
Later  they  returned  to  the  wagons,  where  the 
nose-bags  were  removed  from  the  horses  and 
the  bridles  restored. 

"Climb  up,"  Martin  said,  indicating  the 
wagon-seat. 

"Where  are  you  taking  me?"  Dukane  asked. 

"To  work,  that's  enough  for  you." 

"I  don't  go  blind  to  places." 

"You  don't?  We'll  see  about  that."  Mar- 
tin dropped  the  long  driving  lines  he  was 
gathering  up  and  advanced  towards  the  boy. 

"I'm  no  common  laborer,"  Jimmy  explained, 
with  heat. 

"You  soon  will  be." 


20          THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

"But  I've  got  business — got  to  go  to  San 
Francisco." 

"Think  you  can  beat  me  out  of  the  price  of 
a  dinner,  do  you?  Up  on  the  wagon  you  go." 

"Not  much,  you  lobster-colored— 

The  sentence  was  never  finished;  Martin 
had  grabbed  for  him  and  Jimmy  knocked  the 
man's  hand  away.  This  fight  was  prettier 
than  had  been  the  first,  for  here  was  only  one 
man  to  meet  and  no  beer  bottle.  Dukane  was 
mad  clear  through,  likewise  Martin.  What 
angered  the  former  particularly  as  the  contest 
progressed  were  the  insults  heaped  on  him  by 
the  agent  who  stood  a  hostile  observer  in  the 
car  door,  suggesting,  while  fists  flew,  that 
Martin  "knock  the  hobo's  block  off,"— "chew 
him  up" — "put  out  his  lights,"  and  recom- 
mending sundry  other  barbarous  tactics. 
Jimmy  bounced  about  and  fought  like  a 
demon,  but  Martin  was  larger,  stronger,  and 
bored  in  savagely.  The  boy  grew  sick,  racked 
by  tremendous  blows,  dazed  by  fierce  jolts, 
and  finally  went  down  upon  his  back.  Martin 
stood  over  him,  panting.  Then  he  took  a 
bucket  yet  half  full  of  water  from  supplying 
the  horses  and  swished  its  contents  upon  his 
inert  opponent.  Jimmy  opened  his  eyes,  sat 


THE  BLOODY  FIELD  OF  MELTON       21 

up,  shook  the  streams  off  his  face,  looked 
about,  perceived  Martin,  sprang  to  his  feet 
and  rushed  at  him.  Whang — the  bucket  de- 
scended upon  Jimmy's  head,  and  down  he 
went  a  second  time. 

"He's  sure  a  scrapper — and  only  a  kid,  too," 
Martin  said,  admiringly.  "Reckon  I'll  have 
to  throw  him  on  the  wagon  along  with  the 
sacks." 

This,  however,  proved  to  be  unnecessary. 
Jimmy  struggled  to  a  sitting  posture.  He 
clapped  his  hand  on  his  head  and  again  his 
mouth  opened  in  a  round  O  of  expostulation, 
for  now  there  were  present  two  egg-shaped 
lumps;  nor  was  he  any  more  pleasing  to  the 
eye  than  he  had  been  the  morning  before  when 
he  found  himself  sitting  in  the  street;  fresh 
mud  plastered  his  clothes  and  face,  the  cut  on 
his  forehead  flowed  blood  anew. 

"Are  you  ready  to  go  to  work,  or  do  you 
want  more?"  Martin  inquired,  in  business-like 
tones. 

Jimmy  Dukane  gazed  at  the  man  and  gazed 
at  the  bucket  and  then  rubbed  his  bumps. 

"Sure,  I'm  crazy  to  wrork,"  he  answered. 

As  the  wagons  were  drawing  away,  he  saw 
the  sneering  agent  in  the  car  door.  Rage 


22          THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

seethed  afresh  in  his  heart.  He  started  to 
climb  over  the  sacks  of  cement,  shouting,  "I 
can  tear  the  feathers  off  of  you  anyway,  you 
uncooked  squab,"  but  was  promptly  haled  back 
and  held  upon  the  seat  by  Martin.  Five  min- 
utes later  the  long-lashed  whips  were  crack- 
ing, the  teams  were  straining  up  the  slippery 
hillside  and  the  bloody  battle-field  of  Melton 
lay  behind. 


CHAPTER  II 

SILVER  PEAK 

road  twisted  among  a  few  low,  treeless 
hills  and  presently  emerged  upon  a  plain 
of  yellow  dirt,  level  as  a  floor  and  covered  with 
a  furze  of  black  sage  brush  which  spread  as 
far  as  eye  could  see  to  the  range  of  mountains 
which  rose  ten  miles  distant  in  the  north. 
Across  this  tract  the  road  cut  straight  as  an 
arrow,  following  the  course  of  a  telephone 
line  of  a  single  wire.  The  waste  had  no 
charm;  it  stretched  eastward  and  westward  on 
either  hand  in  brown,  flat,  cheerless  monotony 
to  the  horizon.  A  place  of  desolation,  thought 
Jimmy,  a  land  fit  for  owls  and  rattlesnakes 
and  heartless  fathers. 

Soon  the  rain  ceased,  the  clouds  thinned  to 
masses  of  vapor  through  which  the  sun  burst, 
dissolving  them  and  pouring  down  a  scalding 
heat.  Mud  made  progress  slow;  frequent 
halts  were  necessary  to  allow  the  sweating 
teams  to  breathe.  Among  the  clumps  of  sage 

23 


24          THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

brush,  through  which  wandered  here  and  there 
a  few  cattle  picking  sparse  blades  of  grass, 
pools  of  water  gleamed  like  quicksilver.  With 
the  dissipation  of  the  clouds  the  mountains 
stood  forth  suddenly,  vivid  and  distinct  in  the 
crystal  air,  imminent  as  if  one  had  but  to  put 
out  a  hand  to  touch  them — their  bases  green, 
their  shoulders  gloomy  with  thick  pine  for- 
ests, their  rocky  crags,  bare,  gray,  difficult  and 
slashed  with  snow-filled  pockets.  The  range 
extended  at  a  fairly  regular  height,  except  di- 
rectly in  front  where  towered  a  single  superior 
crest,  pointed,  smooth,  gleaming  white  against 
the  sun, — a  dominant  mountain-lord.  This 
was  Silver  Peak. 

The  geological  formation  of  the  range  was 
peculiar.  In  the  convulsive  cataclysm  in  which 
it  was  created,  the  uplift  had  occurred  obliquely 
against  the  rock  strata,  so  that  the  tilted  ledges 
lay  diagonally  upon  the  face  of  the  mountains. 
In  consequence  the  drainage  was  also  oblique. 
The  melting  snows  flowed  down  slantingly, 
and  while  a  few  stony  creek-beds,  dry  the 
greater  part  of  the  year,  meandered  across  the 
plain,  the  rolling  river  which  had  its  source 
in  the  snows  of  Silver  Peak  passed  into  the 
southeast  and  left  the  smooth  and  level  stretch 


SILVER   PEAK  25 

of  country  to  the  west  a  desert,  unwatered  and 
desolate.  Many  an  irrigationist  looked  upon 
this  open  sweep  with  quickened  mind,  many  an 
engineer  climbed  the  slopes  and  studied  the 
surface  convolutions,  only  to  shake  his  head 
and  depart.  There  were  brooks  that  rattled 
down  gorges,  streams  that  flowed  through 
grassy  parks,  lakes  that  lay  in  high  valleys; 
but  always  the  rock  slant  lifted  a  barrier 
against  their  utilization  as  a  source  of  supply 
for  irrigation  purposes. 

One  patient  and  indefatigable  searcher, 
however,  at  last  discovered  a  feasible  method 
by  which  the  water  could  be  stored  and  di- 
verted to  the  plain.  Of  the  parks  that  lay  upon 
the  lower  slopes  of  the  mountain  there  was  one 
oval  in  shape  and  perhaps  two  miles  across  its 
widest  part;  a  small  river  wound  through  it 
lazily,  thick  flower-strewn  meadows  spread 
over  its  bottom  and  a  narrow  gorge  permitted 
the  water-course  to  escape  to  join  the  other 
streams  in  forming  the  greater  river.  By 
damming  this  gorge  a  magnificent  reservoir 
would  be  had.  Measuring  each  section  in  the 
rim  which  rose  between  park  and  plain  the 
engineer  discovered  a  thin,  concealed  spot  in 
the  shell  through  which  a  tunnel  could  be 


26          THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

driven.  The  problem  was  solved.  Lying  as 
the  park  did  at  a  considerable  elevation  above 
the  country  which  was  desired  to  be  irrigated, 
water  could  be  easily  carried  from  the  tunnel 
far  westward  along  the  slopes  and  delivered 
upon  land  miles  distant  from  the  river.  And 
now  capital  was  developing  the  project:  one 
contracting  firm  building  the  system  of  canals, 
another  the  tunnel,  and  to  Dukane  and  Com- 
pany had  fallen  the  business  of  constructing 
the  reservoir  dam. 

To  Dukane  the  road  leading  thither  seemed 
interminable,  though  in  reality  it  was  only 
the  slow  pace  of  the  teams  that  produced  this 
impression.  Occasionally  he  held  converse 
with  the  driver.  Animosity  over  their  late 
difference  of  opinion  rankled  in  the  breast  of 
neither,  since  the  matter  had  been  definitely 
settled. 

" Where  are  we  going?"  the  young  fellow 
asked  with  detached  curiosity. 

"To  the  Silver  Peak  reservoir  dam." 

"And  who  is  building  it?"  Interest  was  no 
longer  detached. 

"Old  man  Dukane.  I've  driven  wagon 
somewhere  over  the  country  for  him  these  ten 
years,  but  I've  never  seen  him." 


SILVER  PEAK  27 

"I,"  said  Jimmy,  "I  am  his  son."  And  he 
calmly  turned  his  face,  the  chief  attractions  of 
which  were  a  swollen  nose,  a  black  and  blue 
half -closed  eye,  mud  and  dried  blood,  to  his 
companion. 

"You  are  the  son  of  the  devil.  Hoboes  al- 
ways have  rich  fathers,  to  hear  'em  tell  it. 
You'll  be  wanting  to  borrow  money  of  me 
pretty  soon." 

"Not  soon,  but  now." 

"Take  a  few  minutes  to  think  it  over 
and  make  certain,"  Martin  answered  ironi- 
cally. 

"I'll  explain  this  mixup  to  the  superin- 
tendent." 

"You'll  work  with  a  shovel,  that's  what 
you'll  do — and  besides  he  loves  a  hobo  like  a 
snake." 

There  was  food  for  reflection  in  this  news. 

"What's  your  real  name?"  Martin  presently 
asked. 

"Hempledink, — Ignacio  Gustavus  Hemple- 
dink,"  Dukane  replied  sourly,  angry  at  the 
other's  incredulity.  "I  was  born  of  Swedish 
parents  in  the  Sahara  desert  and  I  am  the  Sia- 
mese twins." 

"Hempledink  will  do.     You're  one  of  the 


28          THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

humorous  boys,  I  see;  you  shall  shovel  rock 
till  your  back  cracks." 

About  five  o'clock  they  reached  the  moun- 
tains. At  their  base  was  a  small  shack  town, 
composed  mostly  of  saloons  and  enterprises 
of  a  similarly  evil  character,  where  the  work- 
men of  the  three  camps  might  loaf,  or  riot  on 
pay  day,  or  sleep  off  a  debauch  in  drunken 
slumber.  The  buildings  were  not  pretty;  long 
unpainted  boxes  with  strips  of  rusty  black  pa- 
per fluttering  in  the  wind,  standing  naked  and 
bare  under  the  hot  sun.  Behind  them  lay  piles 
of  tin  cans  and  broken  bottles,  while  flies 
swarmed  about  the  open,  screened  doors. 

Through  this  town  they  passed  and  began 
the  ascent  of  the  hill.  Westward  a  cluster  of 
white  dots  on  a  slope  showed  the  location  of 
the  canal  camp ;  and  already  a  long,  thin,  gray 
scar  slanted  across  the  mountain's  flank  where 
ran  the  big  ditch  in  its  gradual  descent  to  the 
plain.  A  mile  above  the  town  they  came  to 
the  tunnel  camp;  buildings  of  the  same  ma- 
terial as  those  below  placed  at  the  mouth  of 
a  ragged  hole  in  the  hillside.  Just  here  at  the 
crest  of  the  hill  the  ledge  outcropped,  running 
along  the  top  in  a  serrated  wall  and  the  final 
climb  of  the  road  from  the  tunnel  was  steep 


SILVER   PEAK  £9 

though  short,  but  at  last  the  wagons  stood 
upon  the  summit  of  the  ridge.  A  magnificent 
prospect  of  mountain  and  plain  stretched  end- 
lessly into  the  hazy  distance  behind ;  before  and 
below  them  lay  the  grassy  park  which  formed 
the  site  of  the  future  reservoir.  The  hill  where 
they  rested  was  a  half-moon  in  shape,  like  a 
bent  finger  jointed  to  the  main  body  of  Silver 
Peak.  The  bowl  was  shallow,  not  over  two 
hundred  feet  deep,  level  bottomed,  sheltered,  a 
flower-starred  meadow  through  which  the  little 
river  looped  in  curves  and  bends  to  vanish  at 
last  through  the  eastern  cleft.  A  ranch-house 
with  out-buildings  sat  in  the  middle  of  the  basin 
and  herds  fed  knee-deep  about  the  meadows, 
for  though  the  ranch  had  been  purchased  by 
the  irrigation  company,  the  owner  was  to  main- 
tain possession  until  the  project  was  finished. 
Martin  pointed  a  finger  at  where,  half  a  mile 
away,  the  stream  entered  the  split  in  the  rim. 
A  smooth  white  spot  was  just  distinguishable 
in  its  bottom — the  partially  constructed  dam. 
Jimmy  gazed  at  it  attentively  out  of  his  good 
eye,  for  was  not  that  gray  line  what  he  had 
been  sent  to  inspect? 

Down  into  the  park  the  wagons  went.     The 
descent  was  easy  and  brief.     At  the  foot  they 


SO          THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

met  a  girl  riding  a  pony,  sitting  astride  in  the 
western  fashion  and  wearing  sombrero  and 
gauntlets.  As  she  pulled  her  mount  aside  to 
allow  the  teaming  outfits  to  pass,  she  waved  a 
greeting. 

"Back  again,  Mr.  Martin?"  she  cried. 

"Safe  and  sound,"  he  answered  heartily. 

"Did  you  bring  dad  his  cigars?" 

"By  thunder!" — Martin  slapped  hand  on 
knee— "No." 

"Well,  he's  waiting  for  them  and  you'll  catch 
it,"  she  called  over  her  shoulder;  and  rode  on, 
clattering  up  the  stony  hill. 

Dukane  caught  only  a  fleeting  vision  of 
bright  eyes,  brown  hair  glinting  beneath  hat- 
brim,  soft  warm  cheeks,  red  lips  and  white 
teeth  and  supple  figure;  a  vision  that  seemed 
somehow  a  part  of  the  sunshine  that  filled  the 
gleaming  cup  of  the  little  valley.  She  had  not 
observed  him,  or  had  observed  only  to  pass 
him  over  as  a  horrible  ragamuffin. 

"You  made  me  forget  those  cigars — five 
boxes,  his  own  particular  brand,"  Martin  an- 
nounced, half  anxiously;  "I  was  to  have  picked 
them  up  at  the  depot." 

"Well,  you  picked  me  up  instead  and  you 
might  turn  me  over  to  the  gentleman  as  a  sub- 
stitute." 


SILVER  PEAK  31 

"You've  certainly  got  your  nerve  in  work- 
ing order.  I'm  ashamed  to  be  seen  with  you." 

"Now,  don't  pull  down  your  bet,"  Jimmy 
said;  "y°u  chose  me,  so  back  your  play."  And 
then,  "Who  is  that  beauteous  damsel?" 

"See  here,"  Martin  exclaimed,  with  an  oath. 
"Don't  make  any  fresh  talk  about  her  or  I'll 
beat  your  head  in.  I'll  not  have  any  dirty 
hobo  throwing  slurs — " 

"Slurs?  Why,  I  never  insulted  a  woman  in 
my  life!" 

"Don't  begin  now  then." 

"I'm  not.  She  is  beauteous  and  she  is  a 
damsel;  and  I've  seen  a-many.  My  admira- 
tion is  genuine,  my  good  patron,  though  your 
misplaced  indignation  does  you  credit." 

"So  long  as  you  don't  mean  anything,  all 
right.  She's  Enid  Crofton,  daughter  of  Wil- 
liam Crofton,  who  owned  this  ranch  and  who 
wanted  those  cigars." 

"Supposing  you  turn  me  over  to  him; — I'm 


serious." 


"He'd  boot  you  out  of  the  valley." 
Jimmy  considered.  "  If  his  boots  don't 
have  points — "  he  suggested  mildly.  But 
Martin  withered  him  with  a  gaze.  After  a 
moment  he  went  on,  "I  think — I  think  I  don't 
look  my  prettiest." 


32 

"I  don't  think — I  know.  You  look  like 
seven  kinds  of  a  bum." 

"Seven,  that's  something." 

"You  make  me  tired,  Hinkledink." 

"Hinkeldink, — ye  gods !" 

The  road  led  past  the  Crofton  ranch  house, 
swung  to  the  eastward  upon  reaching  the  river 
and  followed  it  until  the  dam  camp  was 
reached. 

This  comprised  a  dozen  buildings  which 
crouched  some  distance  before  the  mouth  of 
the  gorge — engine  house,  machine  shop,  bunk 
houses,  engineer's  quarters,  hospital  and  vari- 
ous other  structures.  Just  here  the  earth- 
formation  shaped  itself  from  the  hill  or  ridge 
into  a  walled  ledge  of  rock  that  slanted  up- 
ward steeply  to  a  height  of  five  hundred  feet. 
The  vent  through  which  the  stream  rattled  out 
of  the  basin  was  a  clean  cut  rift  three  hundred 
yards  long,  as  if  the  rim  had  been  slashed  in 
-twain  by  some  gigantic  sword;  a  split  caused 
by  some  tremendous  earth-strain.  Through 
the  exit  of  the  gorge  one  had  a  narrow  vista 
of  other  parks  and  hills  and  valleys  where  this 
little  river,  as  well  as  sister  streams,  still  flowed 
land-locked  upon  the  breast  of  Silver  Peak. 

The  gorge-bed  was  full  of  boulders,  with 


SILVER   PEAK  33 

here  and  there  a  thin,  spiny  pine  trunk,  which 
had  toppled  down  from  the  lip  of  the  fissure, 
lying  among  them,  and  over  these  the  water 
foamed  and  boiled  and  slid  glassily  in  its 
descent.  Even  at  noonday  the  sun  seldom 
struck  down  to  the  bottom  of  the  chasm;  the 
walls  held  a  damp,  odorous  dimness,  through 
which  one  looked  upward  at  the  sky  as  in  a 
well;  the  noisy  talk  of  the  stream  continued 
ever,  murmuring  between  the  cliffs  with  a  soft 
music  and  sounding  above  the  deep,  resonant, 
unvarying  note  formed  of  multitudinous  echoes 
that  pulsed  like  the  tones  of  the  heavier  pipes 
of  a  great  organ. 

The  uncompleted  dam  stood  some  distance 
within  the  mouth  of  the  gorge  and  at  the  nar- 
rowest point,  the  nearest  approach  of  the  giant 
walls.  Here  the  width  was  but  sixty  feet  from 
rock  to  rock.  Along  each  cliff  a  road  had  been 
hewn  out  of  the  native  ledge  standing  upward 
above  the  line  of  juncture  of  dam  with  wall. 
When  finished  the  white  structure,  constructed 
with  an  inward  curve  or  arc  against  the  stream, 
would  rise  a  hundred  and  fifty  feet.  Caissons 
had  been  sunk  in  the  water,  gravel  removed, 
boulders  blown  to  fragments,  unstable  blocks 
blasted  loose,  until  the  dam's  foundation 


34          THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

gripped  the  solid  backbone  of  the  bed-rock 
thirty  feet  below  the  surface  of  the  river.  Now 
that  this  difficult  work  was  done  the  dam  was 
beginning  to  show  itself  above  the  stream. 
Scaffolding  and  frames  covered  the  low  wall 
as  with  a  netting ;  spidery  cables  ran  overhead ; 
iron  pipes  to  conduct  steam  to  the  hydraulic 
drills  lined  either  road  from  the  power  house 
and  an  aerial  tram  on  which  great  iron  buckets 
traveled  to  and  fro,  swung  from  the  mixing 
plant  to  the  site  of  the  structure.  In  daytime 
the  spot  was  a  scene  of  industry ;  men  clung  to 
the  cliffs  like  flies,  the  cables  swayed  and  shook 
with  transported  burdens,  while  the  stac- 
cato beat  of  drills  or  the  reverberating  thun- 
der of  dynamite  blasts  throbbed  within  the 
canyon. 

Work  was  over  for  the  day  when  the  two 
drivers  pulled  their  teams  to  a  standstill  in 
the  camp. 

"Here's  a  new  workman  for  you,  Casey," 
Martin  called  out  to  a  man  who  stood  in  the 
door  of  the  mess-house. 

Casey  walked  over  and  inspected  Dukane. 

"And  where  did  you  find  the  beauty?"  he 
inquired,  in  an  impersonal  manner. 

"In  the  mud.     He  tried  to  beat  me  out  of 


SILVER   PEAK  35 

the  price  of  a  meal  that  I  gave  him  with  the 
generosity  I  have." 

''The  miserable  creature." 

"His  name  is  Hinkeldink — and  he'll  do  his 
best,  of  course,  to  loaf  at  the  work." 

"Will  he,  oh!  I'll  put  him  in  Mike  Calla- 
han's  gang,  who  can  wring  work  out  of  a  dead 
corpse.  Get  down  and  eat  your  supper,  ye 
dirty  spalpeen.  Won't  work,  will  ye?  Your 
hands  shall  bleed  and  your  belly  grow  sick. 
Ye  shall  learn  to  love  both  ends  of  a  shovel, 
and  the  middle.  What  we  don't  know  about 
instructin'  hoboes  in  the  duties  of  mixing  white 
mud,  can  be  well  forgotten.  Wash  your 
drunken  face,  eat  your  supper  and  draw  two 
blankets  at  the  store,  then  say  your  prayers. 
For  ye're  to  be  a  hobo  no  more,  but  a  sweatin' 
slave  with  the  fear  of  God  and  Mike  Callahan 
filling  your  crawling  little  soul." 

"I'll  make  Mike  Callahan  bleat  like  a  nanny- 
goat  if  he  lays  a  finger  on  me.  Where's  the 
superintendent  ?" 

"Superintendent!  He's  not  for  the  likes  of 
you.  Get  in  to  your  supper,  or  yell  have  none 
presently." 

The  truth  of  this  remark  aroused  a  quick 
apprehension  where  threats  of  what  Callahan 


36          THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

would  do  had  failed.  After  splashing  his  face 
in  a  trough  set  for  that  purpose  by  a  barrel 
of  water,  and  wiping  it  on  one  of  several  grimy 
towels  which  hung  beside  the  door  of  the  mess- 
house,  he  stepped  inside  the  door.  Seventy  or 
eighty  men  sat  eating  at  two  long  tables.  Im- 
mense platters  of  steaming  food  weighed  the 
table  and  from  these  the  men  from  time  to  time 
helped  themselves  mightily;  ravening  hunger 
prevailed,  a  hunger  born  of  violent  or  heavy 
labor,  that  was  fed  almost  fiercely  and  that 
seemed  as  if  it  would  never  be  satisfied.  Du- 
kane  slipped  into  a  seat  on  one  of  the  benches, 
glanced  at  by  a  few  of  his  neighbors,  but  re- 
mained unremarked  by  the  majority  and  un- 
welcomed  by  any.  Occasionally  a  mutter  of 
talk  sounded  from  some  point  along  one  of  the 
tables;  always  there  was  a  steady  click  and 
clatter  of  knives  and  forks  on  dishes,  while 
moved  continually  the  hurrying  forms  of 
aproned  men  bearing  fresh  supplies  of  food. 
After  a  comprehensive  look  Dukane  sank  his 
identity  in  a  heaping  plate  of  beef,  potatoes, 
beans  and  bread. 

Supper  over,  he  inquired  where  stood  the 
office,  thither  made  his  way.  It  was  in  a  wide, 
double  building,  one  of  the  rough,  temporary, 


SILVER  PEAK  37 

tar  paper-covered  creations  common  to  camps 
and  erected  hastily,  one-half  serving  for  engi- 
neer headquarters,  the  other  for  a  company 
store.  The  office  was  shut  and  locked.  On 
inquiry  of  a  lean,  observant  individual  who 
picked  his  teeth  in  the  door  of  the  store  and 
who  proved  to  be  the  storekeeper,  he  was  in- 
formed that  the  superintendent  had  ridden 
away  and  would  not  be  back  until  late.  Jimmy 
looked  about  at  the  dark  mouth  of  the  canyon, 
at  the  rim  of  the  hill,  at  the  massive  bulk  of 
Silver  Peak.  Though  the  sun  still  shone  upon 
the  plain  the  intervening  heights  shut  off  the 
sunset  light  and  brought  an  earlier  evening. 
The  steady  sound  of  the  river,  the  unstirring 
peace  of  the  valley,  the  impressive  bulk  of  the 
great  adjacent  mountain,  filled  him  with  a 
sudden  sense  of  loneliness  and  helplessness. 
Hope  deferred  made  his  heart  sick;  security 
appeared  for  a  time  withdrawn;  Fate  had 
tricked  him  and  after  all  he  would  have  to 
sleep  hi  one  of  the  bunk  houses  with  dirty  la- 
borers. With  a  sigh  he  drew  an  allotment  of 
two  blankets  and  turned  back. 

"Casey  told  me  you'd  be  along,"  said  the 
storekeeper.  "You're  down  already  in  his 
time  book  for  Callahan's  gang."  And  he 


88          THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

grinned  with  the  appreciation  which  knowl- 
edge of  that  foreman's  character  and  record 
permitted. 

There  were  two  bunk  houses,  one  for  the 
hard-rock  men,  the  carpenters,  machinists  and 
those  who  were  howsoever  lifted  out  of  the 
ordinary  ruck  by  skilled  knowledge  and  "big 
pay,"  and  one  considerably  larger  for  the  com- 
mon laborers,  shovelers,  teamsters,  and  all  the 
rest  of  the  two-dollar-a-day-and-board  herd. 
Dukane  had  no  trouble  in  finding  an  empty 
bunk  in  the  long  barracks-like  building,  for  the 
camp,  as  Martin  had  stated,  found  it  difficult 
to  procure  workmen  and  more  difficult  to  keep 
them.  Men  came,  stayed  a  week  or  two,  then 
with  money  in  pocket  drifted  away.  Dukane's 
appearance  at  the  dam,  therefore,  was  scarcely 
noted;  he  was  taken  for  granted  as  one  of  the 
dozens  who  came  and  went.  In  the  darkness 
about  him  when  at  last  he  retired,  lay  ster- 
torous-breathing figures ;  a  light  breeze  blew  in 
the  open  door,  yet  the  air  was  heavy  with  the 
mingled  odor  of  tar-paper,  woolen  blankets  and 
sweat-damped  human  bodies;  and  in  the  hol- 
low of  his  ears  there  sounded  the  steady,  insist- 
ent voice  of  the  river.  A  sense  of  the  huge- 
ness of  the  work  going  on  here  in  an  out  of  the 


SILVER   PEAK  39 

way  corner,  the  sternness  of  the  grapple  which 
these  men  who  toiled  by  daylight  and  flung 
themselves  down  in  sleep  at  dark  had  with  the 
stubborn  rock, — only  one  of  a  score  of  such 
conflicts  carried  on  in  the  name  of  concrete — 
impressed  him  with  a  certain  new  and  broad 
respect  for  Dukane  and  Company.  It  was 
the  nearest  he  had  ever  come  to  its  hidden, 
thumping  heart,  and  the  pulsations  stirred  him 
indescribably,  though  not  yet  with  any  definite 
desire,  particularly  the  humble  desire  to  swing 
a  shovel. 

Next  morning  he  arose  a  new  youth,  re- 
freshed, buoyant,  cheerful.  He  would  make 
an  explanation  to  the  superintending  engi- 
neer, procure  some  decent  clothes,  cash  a  check, 
make  an  inspection — he  would  really  make  as 
good  an  inspection  as  an  uninformed  fellow 
could  do — and  hie  himself  back  to  New  York. 
With  his  affairs  thus  resolved  and  the  world 
put  in  order,  he  made  his  way  to  breakfast 
with  a  light  heart. 

"And  you're  the  new  felly  who  told  Casey 
you'd  make  me  bleat  like  a  nanny-goat," — a 
voice  addressed  him  as  he  stepped  forth  after 
eating  into  the  morning  sunlight  that  shot 
through  the  gorge. 


40          THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

Half  a  dozen  men  stood  in  a  group:  two 
booted  chaps,  evidently  engineers,  Casey,  Mar- 
tin, and  finally  a  short,  dark,  frowning,  uneasy 
man  wearing  a  brown  mustache,  all  of  whom 
had  been  laughing  at  some  remark.  The  one 
who  spoke  was  a  large,  bull-shouldered  indi- 
vidual with  eyebrows  thick  as  a  finger,  thick 
lips,  and  face  burnt  fiery  red  from  exposure; 
he  towered  over  Dukane  a  full  foot.  The 
youth  was  for  an  instant  almost  awed  by  the 
bulk  of  the  man — almost  but  not  quite. 

"You're  a  very,  very  big  man,  Mr.  Calla- 
han,"  said  he,  propitiatingly.  "I  withdraw 
my  statement ;  I  could  not  do  it." 

"You  impudent  scarecrow,  get  down  to  the 
mixer  and  grab  a  shovel." 

"Me?  Oh,  no!  I  want  to  see  the  chief, 
whoever  he  is." 

"I'll — "  Callahan  began  angrily,  but  was  in- 
terrupted by  the  man  with  the  mustache. 

"I'm  in  charge  here;  what  do  you  want?" 

"I'm  Jim  Dukane." 

"Martin  just  told  us  that  joke.  Don't  carry 
it  too  far,  if  you  don't  want  to  be  fired  on  the 
spot."  He  looked  scornfully  at  the  boy's  bat- 
tered face.  "You've  been  on  a  spree — work 
will  do  you  good." 


SILVER  PEAK  41 

"But  I'm  telling  the  truth!" 

"I  know — I  know.  Every  tramp  who  drifts 
in  here  could  spin  a  tale  if  he  thought  to  raise 
a  dollar  by  it  to  buy  booze.  Take  him  along, 
Callahan." 

Jimmy's  eyes  flashed — or  rather  his  one  eye. 

"Turn  me  down,  do  you,  you — " 

But  Callahan's  iron  hand  descended  upon  his 
shoulder  and  dragged  him  away,  still  shouting 
threats  and  dire  prophecies. 

"You'll  work  till  your  back  is  broken  in 
three  places,"  said  the  foreman.  Still  retain- 
ing his  grasp  upon  Dukane,  he  placed  a  shovel 
in  his  hands. 

Tears  of  rage  rose  in  Jimmy's  eyes ;  he  could 
have  smitten  the  superintendent  into  a  gray 
mass  which  would  not  be  distinguishable  from 
concrete,  but  the  iron  hand  pressed  him  stead- 
ily towards  a  pile  of  crushed  stone.  Neverthe- 
less, he  was  able  to  cast  many  imprecations  at 
the  chief  who  heard  them  not  and  predict  nu- 
merous strange  and  painful  things  which 
should  happen  to  him,  for  Callahan  could  not, 
at  least,  check  his  tongue. 

Shoveling  crushed  stone  is  not  an  exciting 
business,  as  convicts  and  Jimnw  could  inform 
you — and  for  all  practical  purposes  Jimmy 


42          THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

might  as  well  have  been  a  convict  wearing  a 
ball  and  chain.     Callahan  devoted  to  him  spe- 
cial and  wary  attention  in  addition  to  much  ad- 
vice.    There  were  three  other  men  laboring  at 
tha  pile;  occasionally  they  leaned  upon  their 
shovels  to  rest — there  was  no  rest  allowed  Du- 
kane.     The  work  palled  on  his  soul  and  blis- 
tered his  hands.     The  mixer  turned  in  eccen- 
tric revolutions  upon  its  diagonal  axis,  but 
moved  under  no  such  heat  of  applied  force 
as  he  did  under  the  propelling  spirit  of  the 
omnipotent  foreman.    At  noon  his  back  was 
broken  in  the  three  places  promised  by  Calla- 
han, by  evening  the  pieces  were  inf ragiated  into 
little   detached  fragments  like  the  stone  he 
shoveled.     It  was  a  Jimmy  Dukane  of  one 
hundred  years   old  who  tottered  up  to  the 
washing  trough  at  supper  time  with  hands 
seared,  body  bowed,  knees  shaking;  but  an  in- 
domitable spirit  still  ruled  in  him ;  a  fierce  and 
abiding  thirst  for  revenge  flamed  in  his  breast, 
and  the  things  that  his  tongue  had  never  all 
day  ceased  to  deliver  to  Callahan  regarding 
that   foreman   and   the    superintendent   won 
warm  though  silent  admiration  from  the  steel- 
nerved  satrap.     Surely,  Jimmy  thought  that 
night  as  he  turned  his  weary,  battered  face  up 


SILVER  PEAK  43 

to  the  ceiling  in  the  darkness  of  the  bunk  house, 
surely  he  was  one  hundred  years  old. 

Callahan  confided  to  Casey,  the  timekeeper, 
and  Martin  that  Hemple  was,  judging  by  the 
speech  of  him,  unquestionably  a  son  of  the 
devil. 


CHAPTER  III 

DUKANE  IN  FETTERS 


had  arrived  on  a  Thursday  even- 
ing;  by  Saturday  night  he  had  earned 
four  dollars.  When  he  filed  up  to  the  store 
with  the  other  workmen,  experiencing  a  cer- 
tain proud  distinction  similar  to  that  felt  by  a 
school  laggard  who  has  unexpectedly  won  a  re- 
ward of  merit,  he  received  what  he  termed  "a 
punch  in  the  solar  plexus"  ;  there  was  no  check 
for  him,  and  instead  he  found  that  his  store  ac- 
count of  six  dollars  and  ten  cents  for  blankets 
and  a  sack  of  Durham  tobacco  was  credited 
with  the  amount.  Thereupon  he  returned  to 
the  bunk  house  profoundly  respectful  of  the 
Dukane  company's  business  methods. 

"I  must  buy  clothes,  that's  a  fact,"  he  mused, 
"but  at  this  rate  I'll  be  owing  a  month's  pay 
by  next  week.  I'm  slipping  into  an  abyss  of 
debt  with  father  far  across  the  sea.  Come  ye 
comrades,  chant  a  chorus;  Prometheus  bound 
to  the  rock!" 


DUKANE  IN  FETTERS  45 

He  had  heard  vaguely  of  peonage,  of  en- 
forced labor  in  southern  pineries  and  mines. 
To  his  heated  imagination,  in  the  first  moment 
of  shock,  when  his  earnings  were  willy-nilly 
withheld  from  him  and  when  he  had  thought  to 
finger  a  check  for  four  round  dollars,  it  seemed 
as  if  he  were  indeed  robbed.  Peonage  was  in 
force  here  at  Silver  Peak,  naked,  outrageous, 
unashamed;  Mexico  had  nothing  like  it;  next 
they  would  be  using  whips;  and  Dukane  and 
Company  was  an  inhuman  monster  to  take 
four  dollars  from  a  poor,  down-trodden,  body- 
racked  working  man.  All  the  indignation  of 
a  beer-hall  orator  stirred  in  his  breast,  and  on 
its  surface  rose  all  the  accompanying  foam  of 
eloquence,  so  that  he  harangued  a  group  of  la- 
borers before  the  bunk  house  door  in  socialistic 
language,  most  of  whom  laughed,  all  of  whom 
lent  a  curious  ear.  When  he  ran  out  of  breath 
he  sat  down  and  rolled  a  cigarette  and  had  a 
glow  of  satisfaction.  For  was  he  not  truly 
one  of  the  down- trodden  ?  He  knew  their  sor- 
rows and  sufferings;  capitalists  were  cormo- 
rants ;  and  now  and  forever  afterward  he  would 
vote  the  workingman's  ticket. 

"It's  not  their  holdin'  out  our  time  for  stuff 
we  draw  at  the  store — that's  all  right,"  said 


46          THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

one,  "it's  their  graft  and  double  prices.  Take 
your  shoddy  blankets,  for  instance,  and  a  bag 
of  tobacco.  Six  dollars  for  one  and  ten  cents 
for  the  other,  when  you  can  buy  'em  anywhere 
for  half  of  that.  Ten  cents  for  a  little  nickel 
bag  of  smokin',  what  a  man's  got  to  have  like 
food ;  and  two  dollars  for  a  rotten  pair  of  over- 
alls that  cost  a  dollar  anywhere  else  under  the 
sun.  Graf  tin' — graf  tin' ;  that's  it — top  to  bot- 
tom, all  the  way  round,  all  the  way  through, 
Pennick  at  the  store,  the  chief  in  the  office." 

"The  chief,"  said  Jimmy,  picking  up  his 
ears. 

"Sure,  on  the  cement.  Didn't  Pat  Gorham, 
who  used  to  drive  team,  tell  me  before  he  left 
that  there  was  more  bags  paid  for  than  came 
into  camp?  Sure,  there's  graf  tin'." 

"But  that  can't  be.  The  receipts  all  along 
the  line  would  show  it  up." 

"Well,  it's  none  of  my  business — and  I'm 
not  say  in'  it's  so,"  said  the  man,  on  a  sudden 
alarmed  lest  he  had  uttered  too  great  treason 
against  the  chief.  "All  I  know  is  what  Pat 
Gorham  said;  maybe  he  lied." 

The  talk  of  graft  did  not  end  with  the  man's 
declaration  of  what  Pat  Gorham  had  vouch- 
safed. During  the  next  few  days,  the  words 


DUKANE  IN  FETTERS  47 

struck  his  ears  more  than  once ;  and  it  was  not 
an  open  subject  of  discussion,  on  the  contrary 
it  was  a  closed  one,  jestingly  hinted  at,  casually 
alluded  to,  indifferently  accepted  as  a  common 
custom  in  any  business.  The  workmen  were 
all  of  the  flotsam  and  jetsam  of  industry,  turn- 
ing their  hand  to  any  labor  or  to  whatever  proj- 
ect necessitjr  forced  them;  they  were  cynical 
with  the  rough  cynicism  born  of  divers  hard 
circumstances  in  man}T  States  and  under  nu- 
merous employers ;  and  their  knowledge  was  as 
a  garment  made  out  of  shreds  and  patches. 
The  core  of  it  was  that  every  man  was  pursuing 
the  elusiye  dollar,  and  the  easier  it  was  cap- 
tured the  better;  graft  was  a  regular  thing 
anywhere,  sure!  Hence  the  topic  sifted 
through  their  talk  in  a  steady  undercurrent, 
impersonally,  regularly,  jocosely,  as  did  the 
subjects  of  work,  food,  pay,  accidents,  weather 
and  liquor. 

"If  there  is  graft,  does  the  governor  know 
it  ?"  meditated  Jimmy,  leaning  upon  his  shovel 
— for  now  the  hitherto  inexorable  Callahan  re- 
laxed his  iron  discipline  so  far  as  to  permit  him 
occasional  moments  of  rest.  Dukane  junior 
was  well  aware  that  there  were  many  things 
concerning  his  father  of  which  he  knew  naught ; 


48          THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

indeed,  with  the  difference  of  opinion  which 
had  existed  between  them  as  to  Jimmy 
himself  the  youth  had,  so  far  as  he  could, 
studiously  avoided  all  but  conventional 
family  relations  with  Dukane  senior.  "But 
dad  is  square  and  no  grafter,  I  know 
that — nor  is  the  company,  either.  I'll  bet  my 
week's  pay  it's  this  shifty  superintendent 
who's  at  the  bottom  of  it.  I  will  look  into 
the  matter." 

That,  however,  was  an  investigation  not  un- 
attended by  difficulties.  Ten  hours  of  the  day 
were  occupied  with  the  shovel,  three  with  meals, 
and  nine  with  sleep.  The  slim  remainder  of 
time  did  not  greatly  impress  him  as  affording 
opportunity  for  a  private  examination.  Be- 
sides, he  was  only  an  atom  in  the  camp,  an  atom 
with  a  black  eye  and  generally  disreputable  ap- 
pearance ;  all  he  could  do  for  the  present  was  to 
listen  to  the  men's  gossip  and  trust  to  pick  up 
what  miscellaneous  bits  of  information  came  his 
way.  Then  a  dark  and  cunning  scheme  entered 
his  curly  head.  Pat  Gorham  had  been  a  team- 
ster and  learned  something;  thither  then  led 
his  road.  He  began  of  evenings  to  cultivate 
Miller,  consulting  him  on  the  nature  of  horses, 
on  mending  harness,  loading  wagons;  Miller 


DUKANE  IN  FETTERS  49 

spoke  out  of  a  full  knowledge  when  he  per- 
ceived that  he  had  a  willing  listener. 

"I  was  born  to  be  a  teamster,"  Jimmy  said 
at  last;  "besides,  one  earns  two-fifty  a  day." 

Miller  laughed.  "You  couldn't  tell  a  trace 
from  a  halter." 

This  was  true,  but  Jimmy  denied  it,  and 
swore  by  all  the  gods  that  he  could  handle  a  six- 
horse  team  with  the  skill  and  aplomb  of  a  char- 
iot driver.  Moreover  he  informed  Miller  that 
if  the  latter,  as  boss  teamster,  did  not  give  him 
a  wagon  to  drive,  the  hostilities  suspended  at 
Melton  would  be  renewed.  Miller  once  more 
laughed,  for  he  was  highly  amused  at  the  boy 
and  answered  that  he  would  see  about  it. 

But  events  were  shaping  themselves  to  a  cri- 
sis in  young  Dukane's  affairs:  he  got  into  the 
chief's  black  books. 

Corbetson  was  a  medium-sized,  not  a  confi- 
dence-inspiring man  out  of  the  Salt  Lake  of- 
fice. He  had  a  manner  betokening  secretive- 
ness  ;  responsibility  sat  uneasily  upon  him ;  and 
he  might  have  been  any  one  of  the  thousand 
nervous,  harassed  men  whom  one  sees  in  cities, 
wearing  a  close  cropped  mustache,  eye-glasses, 
and  a  wrinkle  in  the  forehead.  About  forty 
years  of  age,  he  had  served  in  the  employ  of  the 


50          THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

Salt  Lake  office  for  ten  years,  quietly,  compe- 
tently, and  as  one  of  the  under  men  who  made 
up  a  cog  in  that  particular  wheel  of  the  ma- 
chine. Despite  silent  acquiescence  in  his  work, 
in  the  routine  in  which  he  worked  apparently 
with  unquestioning  loyalty,  there  nevertheless 
was  a  live  canker  in  the  fruit  of  his  service. 
Secretly  his  soul  fretted — it  fed  on  what  seemed 
studied  and  deliberate  neglect  of  his  abilities; 
other  men  went  up,  but  he  remained  tracing 
maps  or  figuring  estimates.  That  he  received 
no  credit  for  his  suggestions  and  none  of  the 
profits  that  accrued  from  his  labor  bit  like  acid 
into  his  brain.  His  salary  was  an  insult;  he 
read  magazine  articles  of  captains  of  industry, 
their  wealth,  their  daring  enterprises,  discover- 
ing that  money  was  the  solution  of  the  conquest 
of  mankind ;  nights  he  figured  under  the  lamp 
of  his  lone  room  (for  he  was  unmarried)  what 
could  be  accomplished  with  this  hypothetical 
amount  or  that  hypothetical  amount,  resolving 
that  he  also  should  be  rich.  Did  he  not  know 
men  in  his  own  city  who  had  made  fortunes  out 
of  contracts?  Oh,  if  he  had  but  the  chance! 
So  he  fretted  and  schemed  and  figured,  distill- 
ing hatred  drop  by  drop  in  his  heart  for  Du- 
kane  and  Company  which  had  crushed  him. 


51 

And  then  at  last,  all  unexpectedly,  he  was 
transferred  to  the  district  managed  by  the  San 
Francisco  office  and  put  in  charge  of  the  con- 
struction of  Silver  Peak  Reservoir  Dam. 
Even  then  he  had  been  the  second  choice,  for 
the  Company  was  at  the  moment  loaded  with 
projects  and  in  consequence  new  men  had  to 
be  lifted  up  to  places  of  responsibility.  Now 
he  had  gained  something ;  but  the  habit  of  cavil 
was  fixed  in  him — and  he  had  according  to  his 
viewpoint  been  granted  but  a  miserable  in- 
crease in  wages  for  extraordinary  services.  In 
anger,  therefore,  he  cast  his  eyes  around  him, 
remembering  that  after  all  men  in  positions  of 
importance  never  grow  rich  on  salaries  but 
with  money  picked  up  quietly  in  opportunities 
afforded  by  their  offices.  There  were  a  thou- 
sand examples:  aldermen  in  cities,  legislators 
in  State  Houses,  directors  watering  railroads 
by  millions.  Long  before  he  came  to  Silver 
Peak  he  had  arrived  at  the  state  of  mind  when 
the  man  with  money  represented  absolute  suc- 
cess. And  he  was  forty — he  must  strike  out. 
A  plan  came  into  his  mind,  was  rejected,  re- 
turned, again  rejected,  at  last  dallied  with,  con- 
sidered, seized.  It  would  make  him  money; 
and  why,  he  thought  fiercely,  should  Dukane 


52          THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

and  Company  strip  him  of  the  profit  his  brain 
rightly  deserved?  Was  it  not  he,  Corbetson, 
who  was  building  the  dam?  Then,  clenching 
his  hand,  he  took  advantage  of  the  sixty  days 
allowed  him  before  the  work  on  the  dam  began 
to  set  the  scheme  in  operation.  But  thereaf- 
ter he  became  very  uneasy  indeed,  for  now  he 
had  two  responsibilities,  the  day  responsibility 
of  the  work,  the  night  responsibility  of  secrecy, 
and  added  to  these  was  a  third  anxiety  which 
will  presently  appear. 

That  the  hobo  who  had  arrived  in  camp,  bat- 
tered, dirty,  ragged  and  disreputable,  was  Du- 
kane  junior,  never  entered  his  restless  thoughts. 
When  Martin  related  the  fellow's  nonsense  and 
pointed  him  out,  and  when  he  heard  Jimmy's 
declaration,  he  had  instantly  dismissed  the  sup- 
posed pretension,  being  occupied  with  graver 
matters.  And  meanwhile  Jimmy  shoveled 
crushed  rock.  The  manner  in  which  the  inter- 
ests of  Corbetson,  who  was  the  top  of  the  camp, 
and  Dukane,  who  was  the  very  bottom,  chanced 
to  conflict,  befell  thus:  On  the  tenth  day  of 
his  slavery  Dukane  heard  a  deep  roar  of  pain 
from  Callahan.  With  a  grinding  jar  the  ma- 
chinery of  the  mixer  came  to  a  stop  as  the 
power  was  cut  off.  The  foreman,  making  an 


DUKANE  IN  FETTERS  53 

examination  of  a  part  of  the  complex  mass  of 
iron  and  wheels,  had  had  his  hand  caught  in  a 
cog  and  his  arm  crushed  to  the  elbow.  It  was 
a  sickening  thing  to  look  at.  Pain  and  the 
shock  sucked  the  man's  face  white  as  paper. 
The  workmen  gazed  at  him  aghast,  helpless, 
stupid,  while  Callahan  leaned  against  the 
wheels  which  had  mangled  his  limb,  his  great 
frame  shuddering  with  agony. 

"For  God's  sake!"  he  whispered  huskily. 
"For  God's  sake,  cut  my  arm  off!" 

The  operator  and  Dukane  both  sprang  to 
assist  him,  themselves  pale  and  horror-stricken, 
and  caught  him  as  he  wavered ;  then  half  carry- 
ing him,  they  bore  him  up  to  the  little  building 
in  which  the  camp  doctor  lived.  Half  an  hour 
later  the  arm  was  off  at  the  elbow  and  Calla- 
han, still  unconscious  from  chloroform,  lay  in 
one  of  the  white  beds  of  the  hospital  ward. 
Jimmy  Austin,  the  mixing-machine  operator, 
and  Corbetson,  had  assisted  in  the  grim  busi- 
ness of  the'  surgery. 

Then  they  returned  to  the  mixer. 

"You  lazy  swine,  get  to  your  shovels,"  Du- 
kane shouted,  as  the  great  iron  bowl  of  the 
machine  once  more  began  to  rumble  and 
revolve. 


54          THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

Excitement  of  the  late  accident  still  ran  in 
his  veins ;  and  besides,  how  could  these  ignorant 
laborers  work  without  a  boss  ?  He,  Jimmy  Du- 
kane,  by  his  ten  days'  experience  and  natural 
hatred  for  shoveling,  was  eminently  fitted  to 
fill  the  position  of  foreman.  He  seized  a  bro- 
ken shovel  handle  and  ran  at  his  late  compan- 
ions, demanding  to  know  if  they  would  work 
or  would  not  work,  and  whanged  one  sullen 
Austrian  over  the  back  to  give  point  to  his  ques- 
tion. 

"You  need  a  boss,  or  you'd  stand  loafing  all 
day  on  your  shovels.  Consider  me  the  first  son 
and  heir  of  Callahan,"  he  answered,  and  walked 
insolently  among  them. 

"What  are  you  doing  here?"  the  chief  asked, 
when  he  presently  arrived. 

"I  have  taken  Callahan's  place,"  Jimmy  an- 
swered modestly. 

"And  who  told  you  to  do  it,  you  damned 
hobo?" 

Corbetson  had  been  shaken  by  Callahan's  ac- 
cident. The  sight  of  blood  made  him  sick,  and 
also  the  thought  of  losing  one  of  his  best  men 
left  him  dispirited,  fretful  and  on  edge,  quick 
to  take  offence. 

"Nobody  appointed  me,  that's  a  fact." 


DUKANE  IN  FETTERS  55 

"Well,  you  shall  understand  that  I  run 
things  here." 

"Certainly,  sir.  But  these  beggars  were 
kicking  their  toes  doing  nothing ;  they  need  an 
overseer — here  I  am."  And  turning,  he  beheld 
the  men  grinning  maliciously.  "Here  you!" 
he  shouted,  and  banged  the  Austrian  across  the 
shoulders  again.  "That's  all  they  need,"  he 
explained  to  the  chief. 

Corbetson  frowned  and  hesitated.  Need  it 
they  did,  but  this  impudent  upstart  had 
usurped  authority — and  the  chief  was  very 
jealous  of  his  authority.  He  looked  about  un- 
easily; responsibility  weighed  on  him,  and  he 
always  hated,  shrank  from  a  clash  of  wills. 

"Keep  them  at  it  then,"  he  growled. 

For  after  all  a  boss  was  necessary,  and  if  not 
this  fellow  it  would  be  some  other;  so  he  walked 
away,  uncertain  in  his  own  mind,  feeling  that 
he  had  been  overmatched,  at  once  relieved  that 
a  decision  had  been  reached  and  resentful  that 
Hempledink,  or  whatever  his  name  might  be, 
had  not  been  more  subservient.  A  mental 
note,  however,  he  penciled  in  his  mind  to  sup- 
press the  young  blackguard  at  the  first  oppor- 
tunity and  show  him  his  rightful  place. 

Dukane  enforced  his  newly  acquired  power 


56         THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

with  vigor;  authority  rejoiced  his  soul  and  the 
broken  shovel  handle  became  the  truncheon  of 
his  office.  In  addition  to  seeing  that  the  gang 
shoveled  and  meanwhile  maintained  a  proper 
respect,  he  had  time  for  observation  of  the  res- 
ervoir work  at  large.  Crushed  stone  no  longer 
comprised  his  range  of  vision;  he  had  to  watch 
the  machine,  of  which  he  knew  nothing  what- 
ever, and  see  that  stone  and  cement  and  water 
went  into  the  mixer  in  proper  proportions. 
Where  he  was  most  ignorant,  he  wore  an  air  of 
greatest  wisdom,  and  by  asking  adroit  questions 
of  the  operator,  of  Casey,  and  of  others  he 
presently  knew  what  was  necessary  to  be 
known. 

"Ye've  risen  in  the  world,  my  foine  black- 
bird," said  the  timekeeper,  who,  hearing  of  his 
promotion,  had  gone  incredulously  to  the  chief, 
only  to  have  the  fact  confirmed. 

"It's  but  the  first  step,"  Dukane  answered 
masterfully,  "the  rest  will  come  fast." 

'  Ye're  an  impudent,  black-hearted  usurper 
and  will  presently  be  kicked  out  of  camp.  Two 
and  a  half  a  day  is  what  ye  now  draw,  worse 
luck.  Speak  to  me  no  more." 

Casey,  however,  condescended  to  give  him  in- 
formation, for  which  Dukane's  empty  mind, 


DUKANE  IN  FETTERS  57 

now  that  it  labored  under  responsibility,  had 
grown  hungry.  To  many  questions,  neverthe- 
less, the  foreman  could  give  no  answer,  and  re- 
marked that  Hemple  was  a  voracious  young 
cormorant  with  no  manners;  if  he  wanted  to 
know  this  and  know  that,  why  didn't  he  ask  the 
chief — a  timekeeper  was  not  an  encyclope- 
dia. Wherefore  one  day  Corbetson  and  an  as- 
sistant engineer  named  Satterfield,  a  tall, 
stooped,  hard  working  man,  having  chanced  to 
halt  a  little  way  off  from  the  mixer  where  they 
stood  in  consultation,  he  silently  drew  near  to 
their  shoulders.  They  were  speaking  of  lum- 
ber. 

"Why  do  you  not  transport  it  to  the  dam  in 
a  sling  on  the  aerial  cable,  instead  of  handling 
it  half  a  dozen  times?"  he  said,  entering  the  con- 
versation unannounced,  but  with  the  virtuous 
feeling  that  he  offered  valuable  counsel. 
"What  you  need  is  more  system." 

They  looked  around  in  astonishment.  Then 
blackness  settled  like  a  thunder-cloud  on  the 
face  of  the  chief. 

"What  are  you  doing  here?  Get  back  to 
your  work!"  he  exclaimed. 

"But  that's  a  fact — I  see  a  good  many  places 
where  system  is  lacking." 


58          THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

Corbetson  broke  into  a  vicious  curse,  the  as- 
sistant smiled  satirically ;  the  idea  of  a  common 
laborer  assuming  to  pass  judgment  upon  the 
methods  of  work  in  operation  stung  the  one 
and  amused  the  other. 

"There's  something  in  the  suggestion,"  the 
latter  however  admitted. 

The  assistant  engineer  therefore  came  in  for 
the  black  look,  for  this  was  lending,  as  it  were, 
succor  to  the  enemy.  The  vanity  of  the  chief 
was  cut  to  the  quick,  all  the  deeper  that  in  his 
secret  heart  he  knew  his  system  was  not  flaw- 
less. Somehow,  now  that  everything  was  in 
his  own  hands  to  mould  and  make,  his  mind 
lacked  that  quick  analysis,  that  ready  expedi- 
ent, which  it  had  seemed  to  possess  when  he  sat 
in  the  company  office  at  Salt  Lake  and  flattered 
himself  on  how  he  would  have  improved  this 
man's  or  that  one's  actual  work ;  and  what  was 
worse  he  suspected  that  his  two  assistants  knew 
his  deficiencies,  though  they  offered  no  criti- 
cism, and  only  made  suggestions  when  re- 
quested. His  attitude  was  not  at  any  time  one 
to  encourage  intimacy  on  the  part  of  those  be- 
neath him.  To  have  then  an  impudent,  villain- 
ous looking  workman  break  in  upon  him  as  an 
equal  was  more  than  he  could  tolerate. 


DUKANE  IN  FETTERS  59 

"Get  back  to  your  work,  or  get  your  time, 
one  or  the  other,"  he  ordered. 

Jimmy  regarded  him  narrowly.  The  virtue 
of  his  offering  was  ignored  and  he  thereupon 
returned  to  the  mixer  and  expressed  his  resent- 
ment upon  the  back  of  the  Austrian  shirker, 
who  had  listened  and  now  grinned  at  him  with 
unconcealed  delight. 

"You  vas  got  de  throw-down,"  the  latter  tri- 
umphed. 

"You  vas  got  de  whacker,"  hissed  Jimmy, 
thumping  him  with  his  truncheon. 

"I  vill  burn  dat  stick  in  a  fire,"  was  the  man's 
ferocious  threat  as  he  fingered  his  bruised  ribs. 

This  Austrian  was  one  of  the  score  of  nation- 
alities— Irish,  Mexican,  Slav,  Greek,  Swede 
and  many  others — represented  in  the  dam 
camp,  but  they  were  in  the  minority ;  American 
workmen  predominated.  All  were  of  a  rough, 
animal  type,  knowing  naught  but  hard,  ex- 
hausting labor;  men  whose  bodies  were  stiff- 
ened by  toil,  who  had  nothing  to  look  forward 
to  but  pay-day  and  a  possible  debauch.  In  the 
other  and  smaller  bunk-house  the  workmen 
were  superior;  they  possessed  a  certain  inde- 
pendent pride  born  of  their  skill,  higher  wages, 
competence  and  exclusiveness.  But  Jimmy 


60 

pronounced  his  own  companions  "cattle,"  and 
he  experienced  a  thousand  profound  emotions 
— disgust,  anger,  pity,  sympathy,  despair,  at 
their  credulity,  or  ignorance,  or  habits,  or  help- 
lessness, or  blind  struggles  of  soul  against  they 
knew  not  what.  Man  in  unformed,  unquick- 
ened,  impotent  mass  he  had  never  before  seen ; 
man  driven  to  hopeless  toil  by  the  whips  of  mis- 
erable existence ;  man  whose  sole  consideration 
was  body  and  whom  necessity  gave  no  time  for 
anything  else.  He  was  now  in  contact  with 
him,  of  him;  and  this  strange  new  man  gave 
Jimmy  much  food  for  thought. 

Of  most  of  the  men  he  made  friends,  of  some 
enemies.  There  was  a  little  bent  fellow  from 
Ohio,  who  had  a  bunk  next  to  him  and  who, 
though  bearing  the  misfortune  of  a  club  foot, 
was  a  cheerful  soul.  He  had  two  teeth  out  in 
front,  which  gave  him  an  idiotic  grin,  and  his 
ears  were  large,  standing  wide  upon  his  head; 
he,  however,  was  a  steady  and  good  workman, 
a  bucket  handler  on  the  dam,  who  did  not  go 
roaring  off  to  Tunneltown  as  did  most  on  Sat- 
urday nights. 

"I'm  saving  my  money,"  he  informed  Du- 
kane,  "to  buy  a  piece  of  that  irrigated  land  out 
yonder.  Got  about  four  hundred  dollars  put 


DUKANE  IN  FETTERS  61 

away  out  of  the  last  three  years'  work.  A  farm 
would  just  suit  me,  then  there'd  be  no  more 
bein'  shipped  around  by  employment  bureaus, 
no  more  bunk-house.  Give  me  a  piece  of 
ground  with  alfalfa  blossoming  on  it,  and  fruit 
trees,  and  a  cow  or  two,  and  a  wife  to  sit  on  the 
porch  with  me  evenin's,  that's  all."  And  he 
breathed  a  sign  of  content,  with  a  rapt  smile 
at  the  vision. 

"That  would  suit  me  also,  Hop  Spencer," 
Jimmy  asseverated,  "I've  had  too  much  con- 
crete— I  too  long  for  a  fat,  spotted,  philosoph- 
ical cow.  But  I'm  getting  deeper  into  the 
company's  debt  day  by  day  for  overalls,  shoes 
and  so  on.  I'm  doomed — slowly  strangling  in 
its  grip.  Pretty  soon  there'll  be  only  my  head 
sticking  above  the  white  mud." 

Spencer  giggled.  Hempledink,  he  said,  al- 
ways talked  "so  desperate-like"  it  made  him 
laugh. 

It  was  on  account  of  his  acquaintance  with 
this  merry  little  cripple  and  because  of  the 
friendship  which  grew  up  between  them  that  he 
won  the  hostility  of  one  Lantry,  a  brutal  bully 
of  a  man,  a  hard  drinker  when  he  had 
money,  a  bearded,  inflamed  laborer,  who  sought 
to  impose  his  despotic  rule  upon  the  bunk- 


62          THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

house.  The  fellow  had  taken  of  late  to  amus- 
ing himself  with  Spencer,  who  in  the  beginning 
had  resented  some  rough  jest  at  his  expense; 
now  the  cripple  became  the  victim  of  deliberate 
and  systematic  persecution  on  the  part  of  Lan- 
try — little  meannesses  that  stung,  rough  "horse 
play,"  indecent  quips  and  vile  epithets,  over 
which  Lantry  would  roar  with  laughter,  to- 
gether with  half  a  dozen  others  of  his  kind. 
The  decenter  men  scowled,  but  as  each  man 
must  by  the  standards  which  prevail  in  camps, 
fight  his  own  fight  and  the  weaker  suffer,  they 
remained  silent. 

"This  fun  has  gone  far  enough,"  Dukane  re- 
marked briskly  one  evening  when  he  found 
Spencer  wiping  a  gory  nose  which  had  been 
smacked  in  one  of  Lantry's  playful  cuffs. 
"We'll  teach  this  rude  person  that  he  must  have 
manners ;  let  us  light  our  tobacco  and  think  of 
many  painful  things  we  can  provide  for  him." 
Whereupon  he  pulled  out  his  blackened  clay 
pipe  with  broken-off  stem  and  sat  himself  down 
by  Hop  Spencer. 

The  upshot  of  putting  their  heads  together 
was  a  surprise  for  Lantry  when  next  he  ap- 
proached that  quarter  for  diversion.  A  white 
chalk  mark  was  drawn  around  the  bunks  of  the 


DUKANE  IN  FETTERS  63 

pair.  Dukane  pointed  a  finger  at  it  and  in- 
formed the  bully  that  if  he  crossed  that  dead- 
line there  would  be  war  that  would  make  Get- 
tysburg look  like  a  slap  on  the  wrist.  He  and 
Spencer  each  meanwhile  grasped  a  weapon, 
namely,  a  wagon-wheel  spoke — a  sound,  solid, 
skull-smashing,  rib-cracking,  respect-inspiring 
instrument  of  defence. 

"What  have  you  got  to  do  with  this,  you 
grease-fed  kid?"  Lantry  roared,  with  an  ex- 
treme expansion  of  temper. 

"Step  over  that  line  and  see,"  Jimmy  in- 
vited, testing  his  club  as  a  batsman  balances  his 
bat  before  an  opposing  pitcher.  "We  have 
mixed  medicine,  we  have  danced  a  war-dance, 
we  have  killed  a  pig  and  drunk  of  its  blood,  and 
we  are  now  blood-brothers.  Come  into  our 
lodge  and  get  your  skin  nailed  to  a  post." 

"Come  on,  come  on,  you  bully!"  Spencer 
squealed,  with  a  sudden  new  ardor. 

By  this  time  the  room  had  crowded  round. 
A  dozen  voices  offered  encouragement,  shouted 
to  "go  it  boys"  and  stick  up  for  their  rights. 
Out-numbered  and  out-faced,  Lantry  glared 
about,  uttered  a  curse  and  retired  threatening 
dire  punishments. 

"The  first  victory  is  ours,"  Jimmy  remarked, 


-      •  A  V- 

64          THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

\ 
shoving  his  club  under  his  pillow,  "but 'We'll 

have  to  march  together  hereafter,  Hop,  two  and 
two,  like  the  animals  entering  the  Ark.*' »  "i , 

Time  passed  until  Dukane  had  been  in  .Sil- 
ver Peak  Basin  three  weeks.  He  swelled  with 
food,  knowledge  of  concrete  and  independence. 
He  was  very  confident  that  he  could  build  a 
dam  himself,  with  perhaps  the  help  of  a  sur- 
veyor. Day  by  day  he  taught  his  gang  their, 
duty  to  the  mixer ;  he  visited  Callahan  in  the  lit- 
tle hospital  and  told  him  tales  of  the  dam  and 
of  many  other  things  until  that  now  one-armed 
ex-foreman  awaited  his  coming  as  a  child  longs 
for  its  mother.  To  his  listener  Jimmy  de- 
nounced the  system  of  the  camp — rock-crush- 
ing, grinding,  transporting,  dumping,  carpen- 
tering, blasting,  building — until  Callahan's 
eyes  twinkled. 

"It's  very  wise  you've  grown  in  a  fortnight," 
said  he. 

"So  I  have — there  is  nothing  more  for  me  to 
learn,"  was  the  brazen  rejoinder. 

"What  it's  taken  the  rest  of  us  poor  devils, 
chief,  assistant,  down  to  Casey  and  me,  years 
to  learn." 

"That  shows  that  I'm  an  unusual  man." 

"You're  a  damned  swelled-up  kid.     Next 


DUKANE  IN  FETTERS  65 

thing  you'll  be  driving  off  the  whole  camp  and 
buildin'  the  dam  with  just  your  own  two  little 
hands." 

"I  would  need  a  shoveler  perhaps." 

Many  things  he  did  not  know  about  the 
work,  but  he  did  not  know  that  he  knew  not. 
Ideas  surged  and  overflowed  in  his  mind — now 
if  he  were  running  things!  He  one  day  but- 
ton-holed the  assistant-engineer  with  whom  the 
chief  had  been  talking  on  the  occasion  when  he 
had  offered  his  suggestion  about  moving  lum- 
ber along  the  cable  in  slings. 

"What's  your  name?"  he  inquired,  keeping 
forefinger  firmly  hooked  in  the  other's  button- 
hole. 

In  astonishment  the  stooped,  studious  engi- 
neer answered  that  it  was  Satterfield. 

"All  right.  Now,  Satterfield,  why  don't  you 
fellows  who're  trying  to  build  this  dam  use 
steel  frames  for  the  molds  instead  of  lumber. 
Any  person  with  his  eyes  open  would  know  that 
they  would  be  twice  as  convenient." 

"Convenient  possibly,  but  how  about  the 
cost?  Do  you  know  that  such  frames  as  you 
mention  would  be  expensive  to  manufacture, 
transport,  erect,  besides  being  a  dead  loss  when 
the  work  was  finished?  And  meanwhile,  my 


66          THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

young  friend,  kindly  remove  your  finger  from 
my  lapel." 

But  Dukane  persisted. 

"There  are  a  lot  of  things  that  you  chaps 
don't  handle  right — "  he  began. 

Satterfield,  however,  had  neither  time  nor 
disposition  to  tolerate  further  impertinence 
from  the  youth.  He  firmly  removed  Jim- 
my's finger,  turned  about  without  speech  and 
walked  away. 

"Perhaps  I  addressed  him  too  abruptly," 
Dukane  soliloquized. 

His  second  Sunday  he  spent  in  scrambling 
over  the  dam,  peeking  into  the  flood-tunnels, 
examining  the  concrete  frames  and  staring  up 
at  the  towering  cranes.  Finally  he  stepped 
forth  upon  a  scaffolding  that  clung  to  the  face 
of  the  dam,  where  after  a  time  he  sat  down  to 
smoke  and  reflect.  Below  him  a  considerable 
distance  the  stream  escaped  from  a  gate,  rush- 
ing in  foam  and  spume  among  boulders,  like  a 
width  of  tossing  white  lace,  until  it  disappeared 
behind  a  protruding  ledge  of  rock;  over  him 
reared  pine  crested  cliffs;  in  his  ears  was  the 
steady,  persistent,  murmurous  roar  of  sound 
which  echoed  between  the  walls. 

The  scaffolding  on  which  he  had  posted  him- 


DUKANE  IN  FETTERS  67 

self  ran  along  the  top  of  the  dam,  but  now  as  he 
sat  swinging  his  feet  over  the  gulf,  his  head 
was  below  the  wall  and  he  was  invisible  to  any- 
one who  stood  a  pace  or  two  back  from  the 
edge.  Owing  to  this  circumstance  he  became 
an  eavesdropper,  at  first  inadvertent,  then  de- 
liberate, of  a  conversation  which  partook  of  a 
more  or  less  confidential  character.  At  the 
speaker's  first  utterance  he  was  about  to  an- 
nounce himself  with  a  loud  "ahem!"  or  some 
similar  warning  in  the  conventional  form  that 
is  employed  in  apprising  others  of  one's  pres- 
ence, when  his  thoughts  took  another  angle. 
Was  he  not  here  to  learn  all  he  could  about  the 
dam?  And  the  subject  being  discussed  by  the 
unseen  persons  certainly  applied  to  the  dam. 
Jimmy  perceived  his  duty.  He  would  get  by 
stealth  what  he  could  get  in  no  other  way,  even 
if  the  method  hardly  comported  with  what  is 
popularly  supposed  to  be  the  mode  of  a  gentle- 
man, but  only  of  a  shoveler — with  which  soph- 
istry he  stretched  his  ears  to  their  longest. 

The  two  assistant-engineers  who  had  stopped 
near  him  were  the  talkers. 

"Mighty  peculiar,"  said  Leschelles,  the 
freckled-faced  young  fellow. 

"Peculiar  is  not  strong  enough — extraordi- 


68          THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

nary's  the  word,"  the  other,  Satterfield,  said 
slowly.  "Did  you  ever  see  a  dam  built  in  such 
a  fashion  before?" 

"No,  can't  say  that  I  have.  But  then,  I've 
not  seen  a  tremendous  lot  of  them,  you  know." 

"You  don't  have  to  see  them,  for  you  know 
the  theory." 

"Yes." 

Silence  followed  for  a  time. 

"It's  a  box,  or  will  be,  filled  with  rubbish," 
Satterfield  went  on. 

"Must  have  struck  the  office  as  a  queer  thing. 
Who  do  you  suppose  could  have  planned  such  a 
mess?  Certainly  no  one  who  knew  anything 
about  strains.  Maybe  it  will  hold  awhile,  but 
some  day  when  there's  a  cloud-burst  or  any 
rush  of  water,  it'll  crumple  up  like  cardboard." 

"That's  it,  and  people  will  want  to  know  then 
who  built  it." 

"That's  the  deuce  of  it,"  rejoined  the 
younger,  in  an  uncomfortable  tone.  "Dukane 
will  have  to  bear  the  disagreeable  responsibility 
and  through  the  Company  the  rest  of  us.  What 
strikes  me  as  more  extraordinary  even  than  the 
dam  is  that  the  Company  should  undertake  a 
job  they  knew  was  rotten." 

"Money's  a  big  incentive  nowadays." 


DUKANE  IN  FETTERS  69 

"Old  Man  Dukane  has  a  reputation  for  hon- 
est work.  It  will  be  a  big  sweep  when  she  goes 
— bondholders  ruined,  farmers  without 
water,  oh,  it's  bad!  I  wish  I  were  somewhere 
else." 

Satterfield  evidently  stood  a  time  in  thought. 
At  last  he  said:  "I've  taken  it  up  with  the 
chief  two  or  three  times,  but  he's  pretty  short. 
'Specifications  are  specifications/  he  stated, 
'and  it  isn't  our  business  to  question  them  if 
they  constitute  the  kind  of  dam  the  builders 
want.'  And  there  are  the  specifications;  you 
are  familiar  with  them." 

"Familiar — I'm  sick  of  them !  Such  a  botch 
is  enough  to  make  anybody  sick.  I've  half  a 
notion  to  ask  the  inspector  when  he  comes 
round  what  under  heaven  those  capitalists  mean 
by  throwing  together  such  a  flimsy  affair." 

"That  is  hardly  our  business,  you  know," 
Satterfield  suggested. 

Dukane  sat  with  growing  eyes.  One  thing 
he  knew,  if  he  did  not  know  anything  else,  and 
that  was  the  stiff  pride  his  father  took  in  the  se- 
curity, the  solidarity  of  the  Company's  concrete 
construction.  If  the  works  broke,  his  heart 
would  break  with  them. 

"What  can  we  do  then?"  Leschelles  inquired. 


70          THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

Jimmy  could  imagine  the  tall,  stooped,  elder 
man  wiping  his  glasses  in  perplexity. 

"I  don't  know,"  he  admitted,  in  the  end. 
"Well,  let's  go  back  to  the  house — or  over  to 
Miss  Enid's  or  somewhere,  and  not  let  this 
project  haunt  us  before  the  deed  as  well  as 
after." 

One  round  eye  above  the  edge  of  the  para- 
pet, the  eavesdropper  watched  their  figures  de- 
part, pass  off  upon  the  road  and  descend  to  the 
camp.  Then  he  sprang  up  on  the  dam  to  in- 
vestigate. Strange  he  had  never  noticed  the 
thing  before,  or  possibly  it  was  because  he  did 
not  yet  know  quite  all  that  was  to  be  known 
about  the  construction  of  dams.  But  it  was  a 
fact  that  between  the  walls  lay  loose  rubble  of 
stone.  In  one  place  a  coating  of  concrete  faced 
it  over  thinly. 

"Shoddy,  very  shoddy,"  the  youth  remarked 
aloud.  "It's  a  good  thing  I'm  on  the  job." 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  BESULT   OF  A  SHOT 

A  S  the  noon  whistle  blew  Dukane  straight- 
•**•  ened  from  the  mixing  machine  which  he 
had  been  examining  for  a  defect  and  flung  a 
glance  about.  A  girl  on  horseback,  the  same 
girl  whom  he  had  seen  for  an  instant  pass- 
ing on  the  afternoon  of  his  coming  to  Sil- 
ver Peak  Basin,  was  riding  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  river.  Her  pony  paced  slowly 
along  the  road  and  she  gazed  with  mild  interest 
at  the  dam,  then  with  a  whinny  her  mount 
suddenly  pulled  its  head  in  the  direction  of  the 
stream.  So  she  permitted  the  animal  to  turn 
aside  and  drink.  It  was  a  pretty  picture. 
The  pony  stood  with  forefeet  in  the  water, 
head  lowered.  Behind  the  rider  the  red- 
dish-black rock  towered  high;  the  river  flowed 
in  swift,  glancing  light,  curving  and  undu- 
lating smoothly  over  stones,  or  flashing  into 
myriad  diamonds ;  and  she  sat  motionless,  med- 
itative, a  golden  kerchief  about  her  neck,  look- 

71 


72          THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

ing  down  at  the  current.  Jimmy  barely  noted 
that  his  men  had  gone,  that  the  mixer  was  si- 
lent, that  the  workmen  were  streaming  down 
from  the  dam  on  the  south  bank  and  moving  to 
dinner. 

When  the  pony  had  satisfied  its  thirst  it 
scrambled  up  the  stones  and  back  upon  the 
road,  to  continue  an  ascent  of  the  incline.  He 
sighed ;  he  felt  himself  all  at  once  swept  by  im- 
mense desolation,  by  sad  tenderness.  If  he 
had  been  James  Dukane,  junior,  he  could  have 
found  a  way  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  this 
lovely  girl ;  he  would  perhaps  have  been  at  this 
very  minute  riding  by  her  side.  But  he  was 
only  Hemple,  who  carried  one  eye  yet  black- 
and-blue  and  a  cut  on  his  forehead.  Again  he 
sighed,  this  time  profoundly.  He  was  an  un- 
fortunate youth ;  fate  had  indeed  buffeted  him 
cruelly.  A  third  sigh  emanated  from  the  same 
source  whence  had  arisen  the  others — his  dusty 
bosom.  And  he  yearningly  watched  the  girl 
and  pony  as  they  reached  the  end  of  the  road 
over  the  dam.  She  pushed  her  timorous  mount 
close  up  to  the  yawning  chasm  and  so,  poised 
like  a  sculptured  figure,  sat  looking  down  un- 
afraid into  the  depths. 

Noon — the  noon  shot !    A  thrill  of  fear  ran 


THE  RESULT  OF  A  SHOT  73 

through  Jimmy,  for  it  was  always  but  a  few 
minutes  after  the  whistle,  when  the  workmen 
were  withdrawn,  that  the  charges  planted  in 
the  rough  sides  of  the  walls  were  fired.  For  a 
week  the  dynamiters  had  been  shooting  away 
the  cliff  beside  her.  A  wild  yell  burst  from 
his  lips,  he  bounded  toward  the  little  footbridge 
which  spanned  the  stream  as  if  he  had  been  at- 
tached to  and  galvanized  by  the  wire  which 
conveyed  the  detonating  current  of  those  self- 
same dynamite  charges.  His  feet  skimmed  the 
earth,  his  legs  flew,  his  teeth  set.  Up  the  in- 
clining road  he  sped.  As  he  neared  the  spot 
where  she  sat  in  blissful  ignorance,  he  cast  one 
frantic  look  over  his  shoulder,  as  if  somehow  he 
could  in  that  way  measure  the  brief  interval 
which  remained.  Workmen  had  seen  him;  he 
heard  a  shout  from  the  camp.  One  man  was 
running  towards  the  power-plant.  With  fierce 
face  in  which  an  empurpled  eye  glared  demon- 
like,  he  sprang  to  the  pony  and  forced  it  back 
from  the  brink,  then  began  dragging  it  down 
the  road. 

The  pony  had  feelings  and  ideas  of  propri- 
ety. A  rude  person  had  disturbed  its  contem- 
plation, therefore  it  attempted  to  sit  down 
upon  its  haunches.  The  girl  screamed. 


74.          THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

"Come,  for  Heaven's  sake,  come! "  he  cried. 

"Let  me  go,  let  me  go!"  she  shrieked  vigor- 
ously, eyes  darting  flames. 

"I  won't — you'll  be  killed,"  he  shouted,  en- 
raged. 

And  taking  a  quick  step  he  caught  her  round 
the  waist,  dragged  her  struggling  from  the  sad- 
dle and  bore  her  in  tumultuous  triumph  around 
a  jut  of  rock. 

Boom!  went  a  shot.  A  cloud  of  dust  and 
stones  sprayed  up  in  a  geyser  against  the  cliff 
wall  and  out  over  the  chasm.  A  piece  of  rock 
as  large  as  a  man's  head  rolled  to  their  very 
feet.  Boom — boom — boom!  they  exploded, 
one  after  another.  The  pony,  struck  on  the 
hind  quarters  by  a  flying  fragment,  tore  madly 
past  them,  while  the  roll  of  the  dynamite  thun- 
der went  thumping  and  bumping  down  the 
gorge. 

To  Dukane  the  situation  had  nothing  of  the 
romantic  in  it.  Dust,  a  wild  turmoil  in  his 
arms,  and  a  deep  burning  scratch  on  his  cheek 
seemed  to  comprise  the  chief  elements  of  the 
event  so  far  as  he  was  concerned.  He  regard- 
ed his  companion  and  reached  for  his  blue  ban- 
dana handkerchief,  for  blood  was  dripping 
from  his  chin.  In  every  affair  in  which  he  was 


THE  RESULT  OF  A  SHOT  75 

engaged,  he  reflected,  he  suffered  with  singular 
fatality  upon  the  face.  As  for  the  girl  whom 
he  had  rescued,  she  was  a  vixen. 

"How  dare  you!"  she  cried,  drawing  back 
and  tugging  desperately  at  her  gauntlets. 

"I'll  never  dare  again,"  he  replied  shortly. 
"Still  it  seemed  easier  than  going  down  and 
picking  you  up  out  of  the  river." 

"You  dreadful  creature !  When  Tom  might 
have  jumped  and  dashed  me  to  death!" 

"Or  backed  up  and  sat  down  with  you  inside 
the  wall." 

"But  to  pull  me  off!" 

"Leisurely  discussion  would  of  course  have 
been  more  gallant,"  said  he,  ironically. 

"I  thought  you  some  villain — you're  not?" 

"No,  Miss,  only  an  honest  workingman  dis- 
guised as  one." 

"You  don't  talk  like  either.'* 

Jimmy  paused,  patted  his  cheek  with  his 
handkerchief,  then  gazed  at  it  contemplatively. 

"My  good  heart's  blood  it  is,"  said  he. 

She  came  a  step  nearer. 

"Did  I  do  that?" 

"No,  indeed,  it  was  some  fluttering  angel." 

"Nonsense,  I  made  that  scratch." 

He  showed  one  of  his  flashing  smiles.     "It's 


76         THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

a  good  one  of  its  kind.  Now  you  had  best  go 
back.  Tommy,  if  that's  his  name,  is  standing 
at  the  foot  of  the  hill  casting  reproachful 
glances  at  you." 

She  started  to  go,  then  stopped.  For  Jimmy 
was  accompanying  her,  walking  quite  at  home 
by  her  side. 

"Thank  you,  very  much,  for  your  service," 
she  said  stiffly  and  dismissingly.  "I  want  you 
to  feel  that  I  am  grateful — and  sorry  for  the 
scratch." 

"It's  merely  one  of  my  collection.  I'll  catch 
Tommy  for  you." 

Now  was  the  young  lady  of  the  bright  eyes 
and  lovely  face  visibly  embarrassed.  In  her 
mind  an  immense  social  gulf,  wide  and  deep  as 
the  chasm  from  which  she  had  just  been  drawn 
back,  yawned  between  her  and  the  camp  labor- 
ers; she  had  ignored  the  very  existence  of  the 
common  men,  recognizing  only  the  boss  driver, 
the  storekeeper,  doctor,  the  superintendent,  and 
his  two  assistants,  yet  what  could  she  say  to  this 
young  laborer;  and  as  they  proceeded  she  im- 
agined what  her  father's  astonishment  would 
have  been — he  a  relic  of  the  proud  South — had 
he  observed  them  together.  Relief,  then 
amusement,  took  possession  of  her,  for  she  per- 


THE  RESULT  OF  A  SHOT  77 

ceived  that  the  young  fellow  only  meant  to  con- 
vey courtesy.  Imagine  then  how  immediately 
her  mind  received  a  shock. 

"Won't  you  come  and  be  rescued  every 
day?"  he  asked. 

A  quizzical  wrinkle  marked  her  brow ;  finally 
she  bubbled  into  laughter.  He  was  gazing  at 
her  with  inquiring,  sparkling,  mischievous  eyes. 
Really  he  was  not  bad  looking,  though  sadly 
marred — curly  black  hair,  white  teeth,  clear 
brown  skin  and  round  boyish  head,  so  round  a 
head  it  seemed  about  to  pop  open  like  a  steam- 
filled  apple.  Indeed,  he  was  only  a  boy, 
though  a  saucy  one. 

"The  idea!  That  would  be  rather  exhaust- 
ing, to  go  through  this  day  after  day." 

"We  could  have  the  scene  put  on  as  a  thriller 
for  moving  picture  shows."  And  as  he  caught 
the  pony's  head,  "Here  is  Pegasus  who  would 
have  flown  away  with  you." 

"Pegasus,  where  did  you  ever  hear  that 
name?"  she  asked,  surprised. 

Jimmy  beamed  with  fond  recollection:  "I 
rode  Pegasus  through  a  university  and  was 
often  bucked  off." 

Enid  Crofton  stared  at  him  with  new- 
kindled  interest. 


78          THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

"You  a  university  man!" 

"I  have  that  noble  honor,"  Dukane  rejoined, 
sweeping  the  ground  with  his  punctured  hat 
in  an  elaborate  bow.  "Appearances  are 
against  the  belief.  But  I  am  so  stuff ed  with 
knowledge  that  I  feel  like  a  sausage.  Listen, 
here  is  poetry  that  a  Literature  professor  once 
made  me  memorize  for  my  sins : 

'And  Enid  heard  the  clashing  of  his  fall, 
Suddenly  came,  and  at  his  side  all  pale 
Dismounting  loosed  the  fastenings  of  his  arms, 
Nor  let  her  true  hand  falter,  nor  blue  eye 
Moisten,  till  she  had  lighted  on  his  wound, 
And  tearing  off  her  veil  of  faded  silk 
Had  bared  her  forehead  to  the  blistering  sun 
And  swathed  the  hurt  that  drained  her  dear  lord's  life.'  " 

Amazed,  the  girl  listened  to  him  mouth  the 
rolling  lines.  Whether  she  would  presently 
lapse  into  a  hysteria  of  shrieks  of  laughter  she 
could  not  guess;  the  ridiculousness  of  it,  the 
prodigious  impudence  stupefied  her  and  stirred 
her  wonder.  To  have  quoted  so  neatly  the 
passage  of  Tennyson's  Idylls!  She  stood 
struggling,  finally  mastered  her  emotion  and 
averting  her  face,  swung  into  the  saddle. 

He  clutched  the  bridle,  wrapped  his  fingers 
in  it  firmly. 


THE  RESULT  OF  A  SHOT  79 

"Am  I  never  to  see  you  again?"  he  cried. 

"Why,  you  may  see  me  riding  around  the 
valley  any  day." 

Dukane  shook  the  bridle  with  impetuous 
fervor,  until  Tommy,  the  pony,  snapped  at 
him  in  high  displeasure. 

"The  valley!  I  don't  want  merely  to  see 
you,  I  want  to  talk  to  you." 

She  gazed  down  at  him.  A  smile  crept 
upon  her  lips;  truly  he  was  just  a  boy,  not 
much  older  than  herself.  What  a  disreputa- 
ble, charming  vagabond  he  was!  He  had 
broken  the  monotony  of  her  tranquil  life, 
flashed  like  a  bright  beam  across  the  dull  ex- 
istence of  Silver  Peak  Basin.  If — but  what 
would  her  father  say! 

Jimmy  slowly  let  go  the  bridle  and  stepped 
back. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Miss  Crofton,"  said  he 
slowly. 

She  noted  a  wistful  loneliness  in  his  eyes, 
and  yielded.  "There's  our  house  yonder," 
she  pointed  a  finger.  "Father  would  be  glad, 
I'm  sure,  to  thank  you  for  saving  me  from  a 
possible  accident." 

The  sound  of  feet  hurrying  up  the  stony 
bank  of  the  stream  came  to  their  ears ;  Dukane 


80          THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

glanced  about  with  a  face  full  of  annoyance. 
It  was  the  chief  engineer,  deuce  take  the  chief  1 
He  had  been  informed  of  Enid  Crofton's  mis- 
adventure and  was  hurrying  to  assure  himself 
that  no  harm  had  touched  her  person. 

"I'm  glad  you're  safe,"  he  exclaimed.  "Was 
this  the  fellow  who  helped  you?  Good  work, 
my  man."  With  which  curt  acknowledgment 
he  turned  a  shoulder  of  dismissal  on  Dukane. 

Flames  of  anger  jumped  upward  and  en- 
circled Jimmy's  heart.  To  be  treated  as  if  he 
had  saved  a  bucket  of  concrete  from  spilling,  or 
a  team  from  running  away,  filled  his  youthful 
breast  with  indignation  to  bursting.  Then  to 
have  Corbetson  calmly  appropriate  the  heroine 
by  virtue  of  his  rank — that  exceeded  what  mor- 
tal man  could  bear.  With  compressed  lips, 
Jimmy  did  not  budge.  Corbetson  perceived 
this,  frowned.  Thrusting  a  hand  into  his 
pocket  and  drawing  it  forth  he  extended  a 
dollar  towards  the  youth.  Most  shovelers 
would  have  accepted  it  with  stammered  thanks ; 
Jimmy  looked  at  it  aversely. 

"I  cannot  accept  tainted  money,"  said  he 
offishly,  putting  his  hands  behind  his  back. 

"Then  get  your  time,  you  insolent  dog," 
Corbetson  snapped. 


THE  RESULT  OF  A  SHOT  81 

"You're  not  discharging  him?"  Enid  Crof- 
ton  cried. 

"Yes,  he's  an  impudent,  disturbing  nui- 
sance." 

"Just  when  he's  saved  my  life!  I'll  never 
forgive  you." 

Corbetson  swallowed  his  Adam's  apple  with- 
out reply  in  an  endeavor  to  lubricate  this  threat. 
For  Enid  Crof ton  was  the  third  responsibility, 
an  uncertain  one,  which  kept  him  tossing  in  un- 
easy wakefulness  of  nights;  his  unhappy  soul 
had  succumbed  to  her  beauty  and  he  lived  from 
day  to  day  in  a  torment  of  hope  and  dread  con- 
cerning her  favor. 

"Go  to  your  dinner,  Hemple,"  he  ordered 
the  grinning  youth. 

Jimmy  went,  waving  an  exulting  hand  at 
the  girl  behind  the  superintending  engineer's 
back. 

His  heart  had  bounded,  his  horizon  had 
flashed  with  radiant  light,  at  the  indignant 
protest  she  uttered.  Curiously  too  he  had 
experienced  an  imperious  demand  during  the 
instant  when  he  carried  her  to  safety  for  fur- 
ther acquaintance  with  this  lovely  young  per- 
son. She  was  vivacious — was  there  not  the 
scratch  upon  his  cheek  to  testify  to  it?  And 


82          THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

remarkably  piquant,  and  possessed  of  a  bloom 
as  fresh  as  that  of  a  wild  mountain  rose.  Her 
spirits  were  abundant.  Jimmy  paused  in  his 
march  to  the  mess-house  to  rub  the  tip  of  his 
nose  and  reflect  how  her  toes  had  kicked  in- 
dustriously against  his  shins  during  his  man- 
ful rescue.  When  first  he  had  seen  her  as  he 
rode  beside  Miller  on  the  evening  of  his  arrival, 
it  had  been  as  a  flashing  vision.  To-day  there 
had  been  no  vision  in  this  encounter,  but  throb- 
bing reality.  Jimmy  had  made  the  acquaint- 
ance of  many  young  ladies,  none  however  so 
spontaneous,  so  effective,  so  satisfactory,  so 
spectacular,  so  inspiring,  so  glorious  as  this 
when  dynamite  shots  were  booming  an  accom- 
paniment. It  was  quite  up  to  the  first  act  of 
a  melodrama;  aye,  he  was  the  poor,  ragged, 
honest  hero.  That  noon  in  the  mess-house  he 
crammed  himself  with  food  and  complacence. 

Procrastination  was  not  one  in  his  category 
of  defects.  In  the  store  that  evening,  immedi- 
ately after  supper,  he  bought  with  lordly  prodi- 
gality new  overalls,  shirt,  hat,  shoes  and  a 
bright  red  tie. 

"Red  is  worn  in  the  west,  I  believe,"  he 
mused  aloud,  "besides  it  suits  my  mysterious, 
Italian  nobleman  style  of  beauty." 


THE  RESULT  OF  A  SHOT  83 

"It  sets  off  that  bum  eye  for  a  fact,"  Pen- 
nick,  the  store  keeper,  jeered.  "Want  a  coat?" 

"I've  heard  that  coats  are  favored  among 
the  higher  classes.  Give  me  a  coat — no,  not 
too  embonpoint,  something  slender  and  cut 
princess.  There,  this  will  do." 

"Only  twelve  dollars." 

"Only!  say  you  robber,  you  heartless  vul- 
ture, you  hireling  of  a  predatory  corporation 
that  crushes  the  life  out  of  laboring  men  and 
drinks  their  blood!  Twelve  dollars  for  an 
iron-hammered  strait  jacket  that  can  be  bought 
anywhere  on  Eighth  Street  for  two-twenty! 
Merciful  Jews,  hide  your  compassionate  faces ! 
I'm  going  to  sand-bag  you  some  night  for  this 
crime,  Penuckle." 

"You're  now  already  ten  days  behind  your 
pay  in  your  account." 

Dukane  groaned.  "Is  it  possible  for  an 
honest  man  to  survive  this  world?"  And  pick- 
ing up  his  bundle  he  returned  to  the  mess- 
house,  where  before  the  wondering  eyes  of  the 
men  he  proceeded  to  array  himself  like  unto 
Solomon.  Baleful  glances  he  shot  at  Lantry 
who  drew  near  in  sneering  admiration  and  he 
silently  placed  his  wagon-spoke  in  full  view 
and  significantly  ready,  as  at  once  did  Hop 


84          THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

Spencer,  sitting  by  in  astonished  silence  at  this 
marvelous  occurrence  and  this  new  dandy. 
Finally  a  question  from  his  awed  lips  invoked 
a  reply. 

"I'm  going  forth  unto  dragons  and  strange 
castles,"  Jimmy  explained.  "Guard  well  our 
demesne,  brother-knight,  and  henceforth  call 
me  Geraint  Hemple,  brave  Geraint." 

Forth  he  strode,  while  all  the  men  crowded 
to  the  door.  But  the  new  knight  only  went 
as  far  as  the  mixing  plant  where  he  surveyed 
the  valley.  An  amethyst  light  filled  the  hill- 
rimmed  cup,  the  soft  and  limpid  light  of  early 
evening;  higher  where  the  sunshine  yet  struck 
the  air  there  was  a  shining  layer  like  a  wave 
of  fine  golden  dust;  below  him  the  river  flick- 
ered in  surfaces  of  dull  shimmering  gray;  and 
throughout  the  open  basin  the  neighboring 
gorge  seemed  to  spread  a  murmurous,  invisi- 
ble veil  of  sound  that  cloaked  all  else  with  im- 
minent hush.  He  looked  up  at  the  massive 
peak  which  held  the  north;  its  black  forests 
seemed  to  glimmer  as  if  made  of  chilled  slag; 
the  crags  and  rocky  cliffs,  lofty,  distant,  crev- 
iced, were  tinted  pink  and  lavender,  while  the 
snow-clad  peak  itself  was  formed  of  glistening 
silver. 


THE  RESULT  OF  A  SHOT  85 

The  picture  was  one  such  as  he  had  seen  on 
canvasses  in  galleries  or  in  the  houses  of 
friends,  which  he  had  dismissed  with  the  full 
conviction  that  painters  looked  at  things  as 
they  were,  then  daubed  them  down  as  differ- 
ently as  possible.  But  now  he  realized  there 
existed  a  natural  beauty,  a  transcendent  illu- 
sive spirit  of  color,  which  he  had  not  hitherto 
conceived.  A  majestic  calm  clothed  Silver 
Peak;  peace  lay  on  her  little  hills,  calm  and 
peace  sentient  with  brooding  thought.  "And 
I,  I  am  an  insignificant  ant  on  a  stone  looking 
up  at  it  all,"  mused  he,  all  at  once  subdued. 

The  buildings  composing  the  camp  seemed 
dwarfed  by  the  upsweeping  heights.  Now 
they  were  quiet,  hushed.  Yet  they  incased  the 
breath  of  endeavor,  the  undauntable  will,  the 
indefatigable  energy  of  insects  like  himself 
that  scuttled  about  in  daylight  and  dug  holes 
in  the  earth  and  tore  up  huge  rocks  and  fought 
the  hills  and  piled  up  masonry  and  changed 
the  face  of  mountains.  Their  bodies  were  in- 
significant; their  souls  were  god-like.  His 
father's  was  the  directing  hand  and  mind.  He, 
Dukane,  junior,  had  never  directed  anything 
larger  than  a  motor  car  and  that  not  always 
scathlessly.  Gazing  up  at  the  lofty,  wide- 


86          THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

spreading  mountain,  he  seemed  to  see  its  snows 
take  on  the  semblance  of  his  father's  white 
head,  its  bulk  his  familiar  figure.  He  stared, 
rubbing  his  eyes,  against  the  illusion. 

"Is  that  you,  governor?  Don't  crush  me. 
I've  swung  a  shovel  like  a  man,"  he  exclaimed 
half -seriously,  half -jestingly. 

Presently  he  jumped  up,  looking  along  the 
road  that  led  to  Crofton's.  Thither  went  four 
men,  Corbetson  and  the  doctor  and  some 
distance  behind  them  the  two  assistant-en- 
gineers. 

"Droves,  droves  of  'em,"  Jimmy  lamented. 
"They'll  fill  up  the  whole  place  and  I'll  never 
get  a  word  alone  with  her."  He  sat  down 
again  much  dissatisfied.  "And  I've  earned  it 
— well,  let  them  stick.  I'll  smoke  out  the 
dragon.  Hemple  will  throw  his  castor  into  the 
ring  with  Big  Chief,  the  little  chiefs,  doctor 
and  all.  I'll  bet  a  January  freeze  will  come 
over  Corbetson  when  he  sees  his  crawling  slave 
march  upon  the  stage  and  step  into  the  spot- 
light. And  he  was  going  to  fire  me  I  Bless 
his  shriveled  up  little  heart — and  bless  her  big 
one.  When  the  society  play  is  well  started, 
then  James  will  take  a  run  and  a  jump  and 
land  in  the  middle.  Enid!  There's  a  name 


THE  RESULT  OF  A  SHOT  87 

I've  loved  all  my  life  and  never  knew  it.  Now 
let's  couch  spear  and  gallop  to  the  fray." 

The  road  pursued  the  general  course  whence 
came  the  stream,  sometimes  skirting  its  bushy 
bank,  again  taking  a  short  cut  across  a  loop, 
until  it  reached  the  cluster  of  buildings.  The 
large  white-painted  house,  a  chimney  at  each 
end  marking  it  characteristically  southern  in 
style,  and  with  a  broad  veranda  running  the 
length  of  one  side,  stood  screened  by  trees  from 
the  bunk-house,  barns,  long  sheds  and  corrals. 
A  brook  but  a  hundred  feet  away  ran  fast  to 
the  river,  a  clipped  lawn  spread  in  front  and  a 
graveled  walk  and  a  roadway  ran  up  to  the 
dwelling  from  an  entrance  gate. 

A  sudden  silence  fell  upon  the  group  on 
the  veranda  as  he  approached.  Enid  Crofton 
came  a  step  forward  to  receive  him,  though 
with  a  quick  tinge  of  color. 

"You  are  commendably  prompt,  Mr.  Hem- 
pie — is  not  that  your  name?"  she  greeted,  put- 
ting forth  a  hand.  Then  turning  to  a  tanned, 
straight-backed  man,  with  gray  sweeping 
mustache,  "This  is  the  gentleman,  father, 
who  rescued  me." 

"You're  very  welcome/'  said  he,  hospitably 
shaking  hands,  "and  have  placed  me  under 


88         THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

obligations."  He  scanned  the  scratch,  the 
cut  upon  Jimmy's  brow,  the  one  eye  yet  par- 
tially discolored,  but  made  no  comment. 
"Your  name  is  Hemple?" 

"Hempledinkle  was  the  name  I  was  called 
— then  Hempledink — I  have  finally  abbrevi- 
ated it  to  Hemple — Geraint  Hemple." 

Crofton  eyed  him  curiously,  then  placed  a 
seat  for  him.  At  the  Christian  name  which  the 
youth  pronounced  a  fresh  wave  of  color  suf- 
fused the  girl's  cheeks  and  she  turned  for  a 
moment  aside,  struggling  to  conceal  her  mirth. 

"Both  names  are  euphonious,"  she  remarked. 
"Do  you  abbreviate  your  surname  at  will?" 

"According  to  exigencies." 

"These  gentlemen — you  know  them?" 

"Their  names,  but  we've  never  met  socially. 
Between  sunrise  and  sunset  I  am  only  one  end 
of  a  shovel;  our  spheres  are  different.  My 
sphere  is  really  the  barrel  of  the  mixing-ma- 
chine." 

"Come,  come,  Hemple,"  the  round  little  doc- 
tor chirped.  "No  nonsense.  We  all  know 
you.  Why,  Miss  Crofton,  he's  half-nursed 
one  of  my  patients  to  health,  a  big  fellow  who 
lost  an  arm.  Know  him,  of  course  I  know 
him!" 


THE  RESULT  OF  A  SHOT  89 

A  rill  of  gratitude  for  the  medico  trickled 
in  Jimmy's  breast. 

"Oh,  we  all  know  Hemple,"  the  younger 
assistant  laughed.  "He  keeps  us  from  grow- 
ing stupid." 

Dukane  shot  him  a  deadly  glance,  but  seeing 
that  the  young  fellow,  Leschelles  by  name,  was 
grinning  good  naturedly,  relented.  The  other, 
the  stoop-shouldered,  studious  one,  wiped  his 
eye  glasses  and  also  smiled  friendlily.  But 
Corbetson  apparently  was  not  inspired  to  cordi- 
ality by  one  of  his  laborers  playing  the  gentle- 
man on  Crofton's  veranda  and  he  held  his 
peace. 

The  conversation  drifted  to  other  subjects. 
Corbetson  and  Crofton  discussed  the  dam,  the 
doctor  and  the  first  assistant  and  Enid  chatted 
together,  while  Leschelles  conversed  with  Du- 
kane. The  younger  assistant  was  a  short, 
chunky  person  not  much  older  than  himself, 
freckled,  homely,  friendly  and  with  short- 
clipped,  reddish  hair,  for  whom  Jimmy  at  once 
felt  an  instinctive  liking. 

"You're  from  the  east,"  the  assistant  said, 
"I  can  tell  by  your  accent.  And  this  is  your 
first  whack  at  this  kind  of  work,  isn't  it? 
Tough  go  on  an  unseasoned  fellow.  Haven't 


90 

been  at  it  so  long  myself.  Miss  Crofton  in 
speaking  of  her  adventure  mentioned  that  you 
had  been  to  college.  Must  be  learning  the 
business  from  the  ground  up  in  the  manner 
rich  old  codgers  are  always  solemnly  declar- 
ing we  young  chaps  should  do." 

"Well,  no,  I  was  taken  into  captivity  by 
force,  dragged  here  snarling  by  Miller  and  am 
kept  by  force  in  the  cage." 

"We're  all  more  or  less  in  a  cage  here,  but 
I  like  it." 

"That,"  Dukane  responded  sententiously, 
"is  because  you  don't  swing  a  shovel." 

"You're  out  of  the  shovel  class  yourself  now, 
being  a  foreman." 

Enid  Crofton  presently  drew  the  two  youths 
into  the  group  which  she  dominated. 

"We're  planning  a  climb  up  Silver  Peak." 

"Some  Sunday,  just  a  scamper  up  and 
back,"  Satterfield,  the  first  assistant,  remarked 
pleasantly. 

"Not  to  the  top  of  course,  those  rocks  would 
take  Alpine  guides." 

"Begin  to  save  your  breath,  Doctor,"  Les- 
chelles  chuckled. 

"Count  me  out  of  any  such  expedition,  I'm 
too  fat." 


THE  RESULT  OF  A  SHOT  91 

"We  must  draw  the  line  at  Hemple,"  the 
first  assistant  remarked.  "He  had  his  turn 
to-day.  Once  is  enough,  give  the  rest  of  us  a 
chance  at  rescue  work.  Here,  all  of  us  have 
hung  about  on  tip-toe  all  summer — " 

"Hung  on  tip-toe  is  indeed  acrobatic," 
Jimmy  interjected. 

"And  nothing  ever  happened.  Young 
man,"  said  Satterfield,  "you  now  have  four 
bitter  enemies  against  you  in  the  tournament 
for  Miss  Crofton's  favor.  Success,  your  suc- 
cess, has  stirred  our  rage.  It  was  bad  enough 
before,  now  I  feel  particularly  malignant." 
He  polished  his  eye  glasses  and  set  them  on 
his  nose. 

"Perhaps  it's  because  I  have  system,"  Jimmy 
retorted,  and  no  one  knew  why  Satterfield 
burst  into  laughter. 

The  moon  had  risen  and  was  flooding  the 
basin  with  light.  Mr.  Crofton  was  telling  a 
story  of  other  times  in  the  south  and  mean- 
while Jimmy  skilfully  maneuvered  until  he 
sat  beside  the  girl.  The  story  came  to  an  end, 
conversation  broke  forth. 

Suddenly  she  said  to  him  in  a  low  voice : 

"What  is  your  right  name?  I  know  it's  not 
Hemple." 


92          THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

Jimmy  considered.  Mystery  is  always  fas- 
cinating to  a  woman;  he  would  continue  to  be 
a  mystery. 

"I  dare  not  tell." 

"Are  you  afraid  to  go  back?'* 

"Go  back  where?"  he  demanded,  in  turn  sur- 
prised. 

"To  New  York — you  inadvertently  men- 
tioned it, — spoke  of  it  familiarly." 

"I've  been  to  New  York." 

"And  you've  been  to  college  also,  so — " 
She  significantly  left  the  inference  unfinished. 

"The  police  are  not  after  me — or  wait,  per- 
haps they  are !" 

For  he  recollected  with  a  start  that  James 
A.  Dukane,  junior,  had  been  a  considerable 
while  vanished,  swallowed  up.  Dukane  senior, 
had  probably  returned  from  Europe;  there 
would  be  neither  letter  nor  numerous  cashed 
checks  awaiting  him,  which  would  have  been 
under  normal  circumstances  the  surest  way  of 
locating  Jimmy's  whereabouts.  Three  weeks 
and  no  money  drawn;  three  weeks'  subsistence 
on  the  hundred  dollars  received  at  San  Fran- 
cisco— an  impossible  feat  for  Jimmy!  The 
governor  would  be  distinctly  worried;  he  too 
would  have  a  mystery.  And  perhaps,  as  had 


THE  RESULT  OF  A  SHOT  93 

flashed  through  the  youth's  mind,  the  police 
of  many  cities  would  be  at  work  on  this  case. 
Perhaps  even  now  the  newspapers  printed 
long,  illustrated  articles  on  the  son's  weird  dis- 
appearance. They  would  ask  if  he  had  been 
stolen  like  another,  but  grown-up,  Charlie 
Ross.  He  had  been  kidnapped  in  truth  by 
one,  a  certain  Miller. 

"You're  concealing  something,"  she  said, 
"unless  the  explanation  is  that  you  have  no 
money." 

"Right,  first  guess." 

"That's  not  all,  there's  something  more.  A 
gentleman  would  not  need  to  shovel  crushed 
rock  like  a  laborer  in  order  to  earn  a  living. 
There  are  different  ways.  If  the  reason  is 
nothing  discreditable — " 

"Not  to  me." 

"Then  why  do  you  go  under  the  name  of 
Hemple?"  she  asked,  impatiently. 

"Because  I've  lost  my  other,"  he  answered. 

"I  see,  you're  ashamed  of  it." 

"On  the  other  hand,  it's  ashamed  of  me. 
We're  really  progressing  into  an  acquaintance, 
aren't  we?" 

She  drew  back  as  if  stung.  The  rudeness 
of  what  she  had  been  asking  swept  over  her 
in  a  mortifying  flush.  Her  eyes  filled  with 


94          THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

angry  tears — anger  at  him,  at  herself;  and  she 
thanked  heaven  that  the  shadow  in  which  she 
sat  did  not  permit  this  youthful  stranger  to 
see  her  face.  She  was  furious  with  herself, 
though  longing  for  words  to  crush  him.  Even 
to  Corhetson  who  had  been  uneasily  trying  to 
nerve  himself  to  draw  her  away  from  the  im- 
pudent Hemple  she  turned  with  relief.  Never, 
never,  never  would  she  again  ask  the  young 
fellow's  name!  Or,  at  least,  ask  it  of  him! 

It  was  ten  o'clock  when  the  five  men  made 
their  farewells.  Enid  and  her  father  walked 
as  far  as  the  gate  with  them. 

"You  must  come  again,  Mr.  Hemple,"  the 
rancher  cordially  invited. 

"I  will,  with  pleasure." 

"And  in  those  blue  overalls  too,  I  suppose," 
Corbetson  said  unpleasantly,  for  the  doctor's 
ear  alone. 

"I  suppose  so,  seeing  he  can't  come  very 
well  without  them."  Which  did  not  at  all 
satisfy  the  engineer,  who  from  the  first  had 
been  furious  at  the  reception  given  Hemple  by 
the  other  men,  a  recognition  of  equality.  He 
was  the  more  provoked  when  the  young  fellow 
said  familiarly  as  they  strolled  down  the  road: 

"Fine  moon  that,  chief." 


CHAPTER  V 

A  MAGICIAN'S  CAVE 

*  <  V7"OU'RE   sure  you  can   drive?"   ques- 

•*•     tioned  Miller. 

"I  can  tool  six  horses  like  Alfred  V.  him- 
self," Dukane  announced,  settling  himself  in 
the  wagon-seat  and  clutching  the  long  reins. 

In  the  come  and  go  of  workmen  the  oppor- 
tunity for  a  shift  into  Miller's  gang  had  quickly 
arisen.  To  be  sure  he  had  lost  the  dignity 
which  enswathed  a  foreman,  but  that  was  only 
a  humble  garment  after  all,  and  so  with  a  last 
admonitory  whack  upon  the  Austrian's  ribs  he 
had  turned  over  to  his  successor  his  truncheon 
of  office  and  ascended  a  freight  wagon.  The 
pay  was  the  same ;  he  was,  however,  too  deeply 
sunk  in  the  sticky  mire  of  debt  to  give  the  sub- 
ject of  wages  more  than  a  fleeting  thought. 
What  the  feel  of  money  was  like  he  had  for- 
gotten. On  the  other  hand  he  had  sighted  the 
possibilities  of  credit  and  hence  had  peace  of 
mind.  Of  his  skill  with  horses  he  was  optimis- 

95 


96          THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

tic;  disastrous  experience  he  had  once  had  driv- 
ing in  his  free  and  careless  days  in  the  east, 
after  which  he  swore  bv  automobiles ;  but  time 

•7 

softens  misfortunes  and  restores  confidence. 

He  neatly  unfolded  his  long  whip,  mean- 
while keeping  a  commanding  hand  upon  his 
steeds,  and  swung  the  lash  in  a  loud,  resound- 
ing crack.  Instantly  the  animals  rose  in  a 
tugging,  plunging  mass,  chains  rattling,  heads 
flaring,  hoofs  striking.  Miller  ran  to  the 
leaders,  pulled  them  down. 

"You  fool!"  he  roared.  "Put  away  that 
whip." 

Dukane  acceded  to  the  request. 

"They  will  do,"  said  he,  "they  have  spirit." 

"Here,  Perley,  you  lead.  This  young  devil 
will  wreck  the  whole  outfit  if  someone  isn't 
driving  ahead  of  him,"  Miller  ordered. 

Dukane  thus  locked  in  the  midst  of  the 
string  of  half  a  dozen  freight  wagons  must 
content  himself  to  hold  his  reins  and  accom- 
modate himself  to  the  speed  of  the  man  ahead. 
Each  outfit  comprised  six  horses  and  two 
wagons  hooked  together,  the  one  in  the  rear 
with  its  short  sawed-off  tongue  thrust  beneath 
the  bed  of  the  former.  A  chained  block 
dragged  at  a  rear  wheel  of  each  to  check  the 


A  MAGICIAN'S  CAVE  97 

wagon  from  slipping  back  when  halted  part 
way  up  a  climb;  and  heavy  brakes  served  to 
regulate  speed  on  steep  descents.  As  the 
freighters  passed  the  Crofton  ranch  house 
basking  in  the  early  morning  sunshine  Jimmy 
waved  a  hand  to  attract  the  attention  of  a  girl 
standing  in  the  yard,  receiving  an  answering 
wave. 

"Does  she  know  who  it  is,"  he  questioned  of 
himself,  "or  was  her  response  only  a  general 
recognition?" 

From  the  top  of  the  ridge  where  they  pres- 
ently paused,  a  magnificent  prospect  of  moun- 
tains on  either  hand  and  of  wide  level  plains 
in  front  opened  before  the  youth's  eyes.  In 
the  morning  sunlight  the  brown  earth  seemed 
turned  to  gold,  unbroken  save  for  the  thread 
of  the  telephone  line  stretching  across  it  until 
lost.  As  the  balmy  air  filled  his  lungs,  as  his 
mind  expanded  in  harmony  with  the  spacious- 
ness of  the  picture,  he  experienced  not  only  a 
buoyancy  of  spirits  but  a  keen  satisfaction  with 
himself  and  the  world.  Just  to  be  here  up  on 
this  high  seat  holding  the  six  reins  and  con- 
trolling the  destiny  of  the  team  and  wagon, 
just  to  be  able  to  swing  the  long-lashed  whip 
with  a  resounding  crack,  to  feel  his  blood 


98          THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

bounding  in  his  body,  to  be  a  free  and  living 
part  of  the  glorious  morning,  all  gave  him  a 
new  and  hearty  exhilaration.  When  their  ad- 
vance began  down  the  hill  to  an  accompani- 
ment of  shrilling  brakes  and  jingling  harness- 
iron  it  seemed  to  be  with  a  rude,  barbaric  kind 
of  music.  "Yo-ho,  yip,  yo-ho !"  he  shouted,  un- 
able to  restrain  his  spirits. 

Over  the  plain  they  made  good  time,  for  the 
road  was  hard  and  smooth,  and  by  noon  their 
wagons  were  loaded  with  cement,  coal,  pro- 
visions. This  done,  Jimmy  skipped  into  the 
depot. 

"Know  me?"  he  cried  to  the  station  master's 
wife. 

"You  are — "  pausing,  she  scrutinized  him 
with  her  clear  eyes,  then  exclaimed,  "my 
tramp." 

"Yes,  your  tramp.  But  I've  reformed  and 
become  a  teamster — the  best  one  Miller  has, 
though  he  doesn't  know  it.  How's  the  kid- 
die?" He  reached  down  and  poked  a  finger 
into  the  youngster's  chubby  side  till  the  boy 
gurgled  with  laughter.  "You  see,  Miller  cap- 
tured and  took  me  out  to  camp,"  he  went  on, 
"and  made  me  into  a  respectable  citizen.  All 
because  of  your  kindness  and  coffee." 


A  MAGICIAN'S  CAVE  99 

"Why,  you  don't  look  the  same  person." 

"I'm  not,"  he  grinned,  "my  name's  Hemple 
now." 

"What  was  it  before?" 

"That's  a  secret  I  can't  tell  you.  Well, 
good-bye,  I  must  be  off  to  dinner.  I'll  see 
you  often  from  this  on." 

During  the  meal  Dukane,  who  had  come  in 
late  and  in  consequence  had  been  forced  to  sit 
at  another  table  from  the  rest  of  his  compan- 
ions, fell  into  conversation  with  a  garrulous  old 
man  who  asked  him  many  questions  about  him- 
self, with  comments  upon  the  answers. 

"That  cement  you're  haulin',  that  Red  Shield 
Brand,  used  to  be  made  right  over  the  hill 
yonder,"  said  he. 

"How  can  that  be?"  Jimmy  inquired,  one 
cheek  full  of  food. 

"Old  mill  out  there,  which  was  the  Roseland 
Portland  Cement  Company.  Not  much  good. 
Never  did  much  manufacturing  because  the 
railroad  wouldn't  lay  a  spur  over  to  it." 

"But  this  cement  is  shipped  in  here." 

"Then  they've  got  another  mill  some'eres. 
But  no — this  is  all  there  is  to  the  Roseland 
Company,  I  reckon,  for  Andy  Roseland  sunk 
what  little  money  he  had  in  it  and  I  never 


100        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

heard  he  got  a  dollar  out.  Don't  try  to  tell  me 
anything  about  this  mill,  for  I  helped  build  it 
five  years  ago." 

He  spoke  with  an  old  man's  insistence,  look- 
ing balef ully  at  the  young  fellow  whom  he  im- 
agined sought  to  dispute  his  statement. 

"Where  is  this  man  Roseland  now?" 

"Over  on  Sand  Creek — got  a  little  ranch." 
And  he  went  on  to  discuss  the  man  with  much 
multiplicity  of  detail,  mentioning  also  that 
Sand  Creek  was  twenty  miles  west  of  Crof- 
ton's  ranch. 

Dukane  went  forth  not  much  wiser.  The 
recollection  of  the  station  agent  shifting  ce- 
ment from  blue-printed  bags  to  ones  red- 
printed  recurred  to  him  with  singular  per- 
tinacity. Was  that  the  manner  in  which  the 
Red  Shield  brand  was  manufactured?  And 
in  a  freight  car?  On  the  other  hand,  if  a 
business  injury  to  the  Corson  Company  which 
put  out  the  blue  bags  was  being  perpetrated 
that  company  would  certainly  know  of  it  and 
fight  back. 

"At  any  rate  I'll  look  into  this  old  mill  one 
of  these  days,"  said  he. 

The  opportunity  was  not  long  in  presenting 
itself.  At  the  order  of  Miller  he  awaited  one 


A  MAGICIAN'S  CAVE  101 

day  the  arrival  of  an  afternoon  train  to  receive 
and  carry  out  a  number  of  machinery  parts 
which  should  arrive  by  express.  When  the 
other  wagons  had  departed  he  stood  a  long  time 
in  thought,  for  now  he  discovered  that  he  had 
many  matters  to  engage  him;  and  as  he  had 
two  or  three  hours  unoccupied  he  resolved  to 
employ  the  time  in  an  examination  of  the  mys- 
terious mill.  He  set  off  on  his  search,  but  at 
the  top  of  the  first  knoll  he  halted  anew;  for 
the  old  man  from  whom  he  had  acquired  the 
information  had  been  extremely  vague  when 
he  jerked  his  thumb  south  and  said  "over  the 
hill."  As  he  considered  the  subject,  he  heard 
a  rush  behind  him  and  whirling  about  perceived 
Enid  Crofton  galloping  up  on  her  pony. 

"Why  are  you  standing  there  with  feet 
spread  out  and  a  finger  laid  on  your  brow  as  if 
you  were  a  poet?"  she  exclaimed. 

"I've  lost  a  mill." 

"A  mill!  Of  all  things!  Mr.  Miller  was 
right  when  he  bade  me  look  after  you,  saying 
you  would  need  watching.  I  came  in  for  the 
mail  and  I  find  you  standing  on  a  hill,  looking 
like  a  melancholy  crow." 

"Come  help  me  find  my  mill." 

"What  mill?" 


102        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

"An  old  cement  mill." 

"Why,  it's  yonder  a  little  way,"  she  an- 
swered, and  pointed  her  gloved  hand,  "but 
don't  get  lost." 

"The  responsibility  for  my  disappearance 
will  rest  on  you  unless  you  guide  me  thither." 
He  took  firm  hold  upon  the  pony's  bridle.  "I 
must  find  this  mill,  or  be  unhappy." 

"I'll  show  you.  But  what  in  the  world  you 
want  with  that  ramshackle  old  building  I  can't 
guess.  It's  deserted  and  ready  to  tumble 
down." 

"I  want  to  see  it  working." 

"Ridiculous !  There  hasn't  been  a  stroke  of 
work  done  there  for  I  don't  know  how  long." 

"Oh,  do  you  think  so?     Come,  we'll  see." 

Perplexed  and  curious  she  allowed  her  pony 
to  pace  along  by  his  side  while  he  chattered 
steadily  of  a  hundred  things.  After  passing 
over  not  one  hill  but  several,  they  struck  into 
a  dim  and  vanishing  road  which  she  informed 
him  led  from  the  mill  back  to  Melton,  which 
in  fact  he  should  have  followed  in  the  first 
place.  The  building  was  indeed  ramshackle, 
weather  beaten,  desolate.  A  chute  led  from 
what  was  half-quarry,  half-cave  in  the  hillside, 
where  limestone  had  been  taken  out.  A  white 


A  MAGICIAN'S  CAVE  103 

dump  of  waste  lay  before  it,  though  now  begin- 
ning to  be  grass-grown.  Over  the  padlocked 
door  was  painted  the  name  Roseland  Cement 
Company  in  white  letters,  partly  obliterated 
by  rain  and  dust;  the  windows  were  broken, 
through  the  apertures  of  which  they  gazed 
upon  a  rubbish-strewn,  empty  floor  to  see 
that  the  building  had  been  stripped  of  ma- 
chinery. They  climbed  up  to  the  quarry,  en- 
tering into  the  space  beneath  the  projecting 
dirt  roof. 

"This  is  a  wonderful  cave,  a  magician's  cave," 
Dukane  stated,  enigmatically. 

"Indeed,  it  doesn't  look  it.  I  imagine  that 
it  shelters  more  coyotes  than  magicians." 

He  led  her  to  the  entrance  and  pointed  at 
the  silent  building. 

"Can  you  keep  a  secret?" 

"Certainly." 

"And  you'll  never  breathe  a  word  to  anyone 
— to  his  nibs,  my  chief,  to  the  engineers,  to  the 
doctor,  to  your  father — " 

"Stop!  If  it's  so  terrible  as  that  I  better 
not  hear  it." 

She  drew  off  a  step  towards  where  her  pony 
was  tied  to  a  bush.  The  youth  had  spoken  in 
a  mysterious  voice ;  she  thought  she  perceived  a 


104        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

wild  light  in  his  eye — there  flashed  through  her 
mind  the  question  if  he  were  mad. 

"Very  well,  we'll  return  to  town,"  said  he. 

"But  what  is  it,  what  do  you  mean?"  she 
gasped,  pulled  two  ways  by  astonishment  and 
curiosity. 

"The  secret — but  it  will  have  to  be  kept  si- 
lent as  the  grave  until  I  am  ready." 

"Secret — till  you're  ready!"  More  and 
more  she  was  bewildered. 

"For  it's  the  secret  of  my  life,"  said  he. 

He  began  to  walk  towards  the  building. 

"Wait,  you're  most  exasperating.  Are  you 
in  earnest?  Have  you  a  secret?" 

"Several — horrible  ones." 

"Tell  me,"  she  commanded. 

"Promise ;  hold  up  your  hand  and  don't  cross 
your  fingers." 

With  which  solemn  preliminary  she  prepared 
herself  to  receive  his  mystery. 

"Now,"  she  breathed  expectantly. 

"It's  this  cave  and  building.  My  life  is  now 
wrapped  up  in  them,  darkly  and  inexplicably. 
As  I  told  you  this  is  a  magician's  cave." 

"But  the  mystery?" 

"Oh,  that.  Why,  it  lies  in  the  fact  that 
abandoned  as  the  place  is,  idle  as  it  is,  yet  there 


A  MAGICIAN'S  CAVE  105 

are  one  hundred  sacks  of  cement  made  in  it 
every  day." 

She  stared  at  him,  then  at  the  building,  to 
come  at  last  back  to  him.  Her  look  searched 
his  for  latent  signs  of  insanity;  but  his  spar- 
kling black  eyes  and  chubby  cheeks  were  far 
from  those  of  a  demented  person. 

"What's  the  mystery?" 

"That's  it,  how  it's  done." 

"Your  dark  and  inexplicable  life — " 

"No,  my  life  isn't  that,  but  the  secret  of  it 
is  that  I've  got  to  find  out  how  it's  done." 

"You're  hoaxing  me,"  she  cried,  angrily. 

"Hanged  if  lam!" 

She  swung  up  into  her  saddle. 

"I  don't  think  I  like  you  and  your  little  mys- 
teries." 

"There  is  really  a  secret,"  he  exclaimed,  ear- 
nestly, "and  I'm  going  to  find  it  out." 

But  she  made  no  answer,  save  to  touch  heel 
to  her  pony  and  ride  towards  the  trail  which 
led  back  to  town.  Jimmy  raced  after  her  cry- 
ing out  that  she  had  brought  him  here  and 
therefore  did  not  dare  to  leave  him.  Vexed, 
indignant,  at  the  same  time  choking  back  a 
laugh,  she  knew  not  what  to  do  with  such  an 
absurd  fellow.  Meanwhile  he  had  caught  the 


106        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

pony's  bridle  once  more,  declaring  that  he  was 
not  a  person  to  be  dropped  at  will  in  the  sage 
brush;  and  by  the  time  they  reached  town  the 
absurdity  of  the  whole  affair  had  cleared  her 
brow. 

"Here  is  the  rest  of  the  mystery,"  he  said, 
pointing  to  the  freight  car. 

"Where?"  she  inquired  lazily. 

He  led  the  pony  to  the  car  door.  "Do  you 
see  the  name  printed  in  red  on  those  sacks? 
That  is  the  same  as  the  one  on  the  old  mill." 

"So  it  is,"  she  answered,  once  more  attentive. 

"That's  what  I  mean  when  I  say  there's  a 
hundred  bags  a  day  manufactured  up  there- 
by ghosts.     It's  the  same  company." 

"But  look,"  she  pointed  towards  the  cement, 
"this  is  shipped  in." 

"Never." 

"Why,  of  course,  from  another  mill." 

"I  think  not,  I'm  sure  not.  That's  the  mys- 
tery." 

"What  a  crazy  notion!  Well,  tell  me  when 
you  find  out.  Here's  the  train  coming." 

The  scornful  disbelief  in  her  voice  as  she  de- 
rided his  mystery  made  Dukane  wrinkle  his 
brow  wrathfully.  It  was  the  last  time  he 
\vould  ever  confide  in  her,  or  for  that  matter, 


A  MAGICIAN'S  CAVE  107 

in  any  woman.  He  had  been  a  fool  to  mention 
the  subject;  and  probably  she  would  forget  all 
about  her  promise  and  let  the  cat  out  of  the 
bag.  In  disgust  he  went  to  receive  the  express 
shipment.  When  he  at  last  drove  out  of  the 
hills  which  surrounded  Melton  and  gazed  for- 
ward with  eager  eye  in  the  hope  of  catching 
some  glimpse  of  her,  the  long  road  showed  but 
a  speck  far  in  the  distance.  After  her  com- 
panionable talk  of  the  afternoon,  the  time 
dragged  slowly  and  when  he  reached  Tunnel- 
town,  with  evening  at  hand,  he  was  bored  with 
himself,  hungry,  thirsty,  and  in  a  vile  temper. 
Half  a  dozen  men  stood  before  one  of  the  sa- 
loon doors,  who  watched  him  pass,  staring  in- 
dolently in  his  direction  until  one  with  per- 
ceptions suddenly  awakened  strode  out  towards 
him  hurling  in  his  direction  a  string  of  curses. 
Lantry,  the  bunk-house  bully  it  was,  who  had 
taken  an  afternoon  off  to  drink ;  and  now  both 
the  man's  face  and  mind  were  inflamed  by 
numerous  potations  of  Tunneltown's  fiery 
whiskey. 

Dukane  sprang  up,  holding  the  reins  with 
one  hand  and  shaking  out  the  long,  thin  lash 
of  his  whip  that  would  when  properly  directed 
cut  like  a  knife.  Swinging  it  once  around  his 


108       THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

head  he  shot  it  straight  at  the  ruffian's  face, 
where  it  cracked  like  a  rifle  a  few  inches  before 
Lantry's  nose.  The  man  staggered  back  mute, 
pale,  dumfounded  at  this  swift  attack,  and  it 
was  not  until  the  wagon  was  yards  past  that 
he  again  found  his  tongue  to  speed  a  fierce 
threat  after  the  driver.  As  for  Dukane,  he 
once  more  composed  himself  with  satisfaction 
upon  the  seat.  A  splendid  calm  now  filled  his 
mind,  as  if  all  his  ill-temper  had  glided  out  of 
his  mind  along  the  whip  in  an  electric  current 
and  discharged  itself  in  the  single  loud  snap; 
a  psychological  phenomenon  which  he  did  not 
trouble  himself  to  explain.  Indeed,  he  gave 
Lantry  not  two  thoughts,  for  his  youthful  brain 
was  busy  all  up  the  hill  with  the  subject  of  an- 
other and  far  fairer  individual.  At  the  top  of 
the  ridge  he  shaded  his  eyes  to  gaze  intently 
down  into  the  basin  filling  with  purple  light 
and  shadows  in  which  the  ranch  house  was  be- 
ginning to  merge. 

Next  day  he  learned  from  Hop  Spencer  that 
Lantry  was  on  the  war-path,  breathing  ven- 
geance, swearing  terrible  oaths  of  what  he 
would  do  to  Hemple,  declaring  that  he  would 
wring  the  young  fellow's  neck. 

"We'll  have  to  look  out,"  Hop  stated,  sitting 


It  cracked  like  a  rifle  a  few  inches  before  Lantry's  nose 

Page  foS 


A  MAGICIAN'S  CAVE  109 

on  the  edge  of  his  bed,  "for  while  he  knows  he'd 
better  not  tackle  one  of  us  here,  he's  the  kind  to 
catch  a  feller  alone  outside." 

"Are  there  any  more  of  us  who  hate  him?" 

"Plenty." 

"Then  we'll  organize  a  posse." 

Three  or  four  other  workmen  who  smarted 
under  Lantry's  sneers  and  rough  horse-play 
joined  with  enthusiasm  in  Dukane's  plan  of 
defense,  which  was  to  go  armed  with  a  short 
club  after  work  hours  and  unite  in  force  when- 
ever the  bully  assailed  one  of  them.  Reen- 
forcement  gives  courage.  Lantry  attempted 
to  bully  one  of  the  newly  formed  company  be- 
fore the  bunk-house  door  in  the  evening,  in 
the  playful  manner  in  which  he  was  accustomed 
to  amuse  himself.  Up  sprang  half  a  dozen 
men,  also  appeared  half  a  dozen  short  stubby 
business-like  billies,  and  he  turned  tail  to  flee 
under  a  shower  of  whacking  blows. 

Naturally  Dukane  felt  proud ;  he  would  show 
the  ruffian  that  he  would  tolerate  no  nonsense. 
Therefore  when  on  a  visit  to  Callahan,  who  was 
now  able  to  sit  up  in  the  hospital  and  smoke  a 
pipe,  he  received  the  little  doctor's  chuckling 
compliment  on  his  small  army  as  only  a  just 
meed  of  praise. 


110        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

"But  look  out  for  him,  my  boy,"  Callahan 
warned,  "Lantry  is  a  black  devil.  If  he  can 
catch  you  alone,  it  will  not  be  a  fair  fight  and 
done  with  it,  but  he  will  stamp  the  life  out  of 
your  body  if  you  go  down.  He's  a  killer." 

"Then  I'll  be  a  killer.  So  far  as  he  goes,  I 
will  go." 

"You're  too  bold  a  young  cock,"  Callahan 
upbraided.  "Some  day  a  man  will  cut  your 
comb  and  have  you  crawling  on  your  belly  to 
eat  out  of  his  hand." 

"Well,  I'll  take  a  bite  at  his  fingers  while  I'm 
lunching,"  was  the  very  assured  reply. 

"I  believe  you  would,"  the  doctor  stated,  still 
chuckling. 

Dukane  borrowed  the  medico's  desk  for  a 
time  to  write  letters,  the  first  letters  since  he 
became  a  vibrating  atom  in  Silver  Peak  Basin. 
He  spread  out  paper,  examined  pen,  settled  his 
body,  then  gazed  at  the  opposite  wall.  Deter- 
mination to  find  out  all  that  was  to  be  known 
concerning  the  Roseland  Cement  Company 
was  a  fixed  purpose  in  his  mind,  but  where  he 
was  to  begin  was  another  kind  of  an  oyster 
to  open;  finally  his  eyes  flashed — he  would 
write  to  everybody,  old  man  Roseland,  the  Cor- 
son  Cement  Company,  Bradstreet's  and — ha! 


A  MAGICIAN'S  CAVE  111 

— Dukane  and  Company.  That  should  bring 
in  facts  that  would  enlighten  him  as  to  who 
were  the  officers  and  where  were  the  mills  of  the 
Roseland  Company,  and  put  him  on  the  track 
of  the  mystery.  With  a  very  important  air 
he  scratched  away  at  one  missive  after  another, 
until  rubbing  his  head  in  thought  he  concluded 
that  he  had  exhausted  all  available  sources  of 
information.  Yet  as  he  considered  the  letters 
he  grew  more  and  more  dissatisfied.  "Action 
is  what  I  want,  and  action  is  what  I'll  have," 
he  announced  to  himself,  seizing  the  letter  ad- 
dressed to  the  Corson  Cement  Company  and 
tearing  it  into  fine  pieces.  Then  he  dashed  off 
another  which  stated  that  he  had  detected  the 
Roseland  Company  stealing  their  competitor's 
cement,  and  if  the  Corson  people  wished  to 
verify  the  fact  to  write  him  and  secretly  dis- 
patch a  man  for  a  personal  interview.  With  a 
flourish  he  signed  the  name  of  James  Hemple. 
If  this  did  not  beget  "action,"  nothing  would, 
he  decided.  "As  for  that  young  lady,"  he  mut- 
tered fiercely,  though  with  apparent  irrele- 
vance, "I'll  teach  her  to  laugh  at  me." 

On  his  next  trip  to  town  the  letters  were  duly 
mailed  and  he  turned  his  mind  to  other  matters. 

Most  immediate  of  these  was  a  call  next 


112       THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

morning — Sunday — upon  Satterfield  and  Les- 
chelles,  who  lived  in  a  shack  close  by  the  hospi- 
tal. To  these  gentlemen,  for  whom  none  of 
his  acts  any  longer  held  surprise,  he  expressed 
a  desire  to  borrow  a  book  on  concrete  con- 
struction. Satterfield,  pointing  with  the  razor 
with  which  he  was  at  the  moment  shaving,  in- 
formed him  that  there  were  a  couple  on  such- 
and-such  a  shelf.  But  why  did  Hemple  want 
them?  Did  he  not  already  know  all  there  was 
to  be  known  on  the  subject? 

"Nearly.  Still  I  may  perhaps  glean  an 
idea,"  Dukane  retorted,  promptly. 

"Modesty  is  a  jewel,"  Satterfield  remarked. 

"Well,  I  don't  care  for  jewelry,"  was  the 
easy  answer,  as  he  opened  a  book,  seated  him- 
self and  cocked  his  feet  on  a  window-ledge. 
"Besides,  if  I'd  been  modest  I'd  still  be  shovel- 
ing rock  instead  of  tooling  one  of  Miller's  rap- 
id-transit conveyances." 

He  dove  into  the  book,  where  he  remained 
submerged  for  some  five  minutes.  Leschelles 
who  was  writing  out  reports  of  cement  tests 
looked  over  his  shoulder  at  the  other  engineer 
and  winked;  for  the  volume  in  their  visitor's 
hand  was  not  a  little  technical  and  their  visitor 
sat  with  knit  brow  endeavoring  to  elucidate  its 


A  MAGICIAN'S  CAVE  113 

mysteries.  Finally  he  gazed  out  of  the  win- 
dow, then  scratched  the  tip  of  his  nose  with 
forefinger. 

"This  is  rather  elementary,"  he  stated  pat- 
ronizingly, "haven't  you  something  on  the  sub- 
ject which  is  more  advanced,  something  pro- 
foundly scientific?" 

"Unfortunately  not,"  Satterfield  replied,  ex- 
amining his  newly  shaved  chin. 

"What  I'm  seeking  for  is  the  answer  to  the 
riddle,  when  is  a  concrete  dam  not  a  concrete 
dam?"  the  youth  stated.  As  neither  of  the  en- 
gineers seemed  particularly  impressed  he  con- 
tinued, "I've  the  first  part  of  the  solution,  which 
is,  'when  it's  filled  with  rubbish';  and  the  last 
part,  which  is,  'when  it's  washed  away.'  But 
what's  the  rest  of  the  conundrum?"  And  he 
lighted  a  cigarette  while  awaiting  results. 

Both  men  stopped  abruptly  in  what  they 
were  doing,  stared  at  him,  after  which  they  ex- 
changed a  swift  look.  He  had  tapped  the  vein 
which  they  themselves  had  dreaded  to  open, 
which  indeed  had  often  been  the  subject  of 
their  private  speculation.  But  Dukane  turned 
to  them  a  face  of  child-like  innocence.  They 
said  nothing. 

"I  will  now  see  if  you  know  your  lessons," 


114        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

the  youthful  investigator  went  on.  "First 
question,  Leschelles :  how  much  water  will  Sil- 
ver Peak  Reservoir  impound?" 

"A  couple  of  hundred  thousand  acre  feet." 

"How  much  pressure  in  tons  will  that  make 
upon  the  dam?" 

"What  the  devil  are  you  driving  at?"  said 
Leschelles,  wrinkling  his  freckled  nose. 

"At  the  dam,  to  be  sure.  That's  what  the 
water  will  be  doing.  How  many  tons  did  you 
say?" 

"I  didn't  say." 

"Black  mark  for  you,  Leschelles.  Mr.  Sat- 
terfield,  now  that  you've  finished  smoothing 
your  wrinkled  cheek  of  care,  I'll  propound  a 
hypothetical  question  for  you,  as  the  lawyers 
say.  If—" 

"I  hope  it's  not  as  long  as  theirs,"  the  first 
assistant  interjected. 

"If  it  requires  a  dam  thirty  feet  thick,  built 
of  solid  reinforced  concrete  to  hold  a  certain 
lake  of  water,"  went  on  the  interrogator,  "how 
many  lakes  of  water  will  the  dam  hold  if  its  core 
is  not  solid  but  is  made  of  loose  rubble?" 

"What's  all  this  nonsense?"  Satterfield  said, 
shortly. 


A  MAGICIAN'S  CAVE  115 

Dukane  now  rose  to  his  feet.  "I  see  that 
you  fellows  won't  talk." 

"We're  not  supposed  to  talk.  We  simply 
obey  orders.  How  this  dam  is  built  doesn't 
concern  you  or  us." 

Dukane  accepted  the  admonishment,  taking 
himself  once  more  into  his  book,  while  Satter- 
field  from  time  to  time  cast  uneasy  glances  at 
him  and  wondered  if  talk  that  the  dam  was  not 
safe  was  common  among  the  men.  Strange  it 
was  certainly  that  Dukane  and  Company  had 
undertaken  so  tricky  a  piece  of  construction; 
not  to  be  accounted  for,  unless  the  management 
had  adopted  an  anything-for-money  policy. 
Later,  the  disaster  which  was  destined  to  occur 
here  would  seriously  impair  the  company's 
credit,  and  being  a  conscientions  engineer  his 
anxiety  grew  more  acute.  Leschelles  too,  he 
observed,  was  evidently  disturbed  by  the  same 
thought,  for  he  sat  idle  and  moodily  gazing  at 
the  wall.  A  sense  of  guilt  weighed  upon  Sat- 
terfield :  to  go  on  building  with  the  knowledge 
that  faulty  construction  was  being -palmed  off 
for  good,  a  circumstance  which^ould  ruin 
land-holders  and  numerous  fan^^fcMien  the 
reservoir  burst  its  bounds,  made*SBBr  tacit  ac- 


116        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

complice  to  the  deed.  And  yet,  what  was  his 
duty  in  the  matter? 

"Here  is  another  one,"  Jimmy  remarked. 

"Another  what?" 

"Hypothetical."  A  dreamy  light  was  in  his 
eye.  "If  four  chorus  girls  can  eat  twenty-three 
lobsters  a  week,  and  there  are  a  million  chorus 
girls  on  Broadway,  how  long  will  the  available 
supply  of  lobsters  last?" 

"The  lobsters  they  eat  or  the  lobsters  who 
feed  them?"  the  engineer  inquired  sardonically. 

"The  former;  the  supply  of  the  latter  will 
never  be  exhausted." 

"Well,  that's  the  important  thing,"  Satter- 
field  said.  "Sorry  I  can't  stay  longer."  He 
picked  up  his  hat — "I'm  off  for  a  ride  with 
Miss  Crofton." 

Dukane  bounded  up.     "With  her?" 

"To  be  sure." 

"I'll  murder  you  some  day,"  Jimmy  ex- 
claimed, "murder  you  in  cold  blood."  A 
happy  thought  struck  him.  "I'll  go  along." 

"Oh,  I  rather  think  not." 

"If  that,  isn't  hard  luck!  By  heaven,  I'll 
beat  you  to  her  this  afternoon!  All  right, 
make  hay  while  the  sun  shines ;  my  turn's  com- 
ing." Throwing  himself  back  on  his  chair  he 


A  MAGICIAN'S  CAVE  117 

glared  at  Leschelles  while  Satterfield  went  off 
laughing.  "I  suppose  I'll  have  to  entertain 
myself  with  you.  Seems  to  me  that  all  that 
you  fellows  do  is  to  hang  around  the  Crofton 
ranch." 

But  Leschelles  only  chuckled  and  went  on 
with  his  calculations.  Grumbling  for  a  time 
Dukane  began  to  overhaul  the  book-case,  until 
he  found  a  novel  which  suited  him,  whereupon 
he  gave  over  study  of  concrete  construction  and 
followed  the  hair-breadth  escapes  of  a  hero 
clothed  in  all  the  splendid  qualities  found  on  or 
off  the  earth  as  he  captured  an  obscure  king- 
dom of  Europe  and  established  upon  its  throne 
a  beautiful  young  queen  who  possessed  a  de- 
signing uncle  and  eight  or  ten  despairing 
lovers. 

"That  fellow's  not  human,"  he  remarked, 
snapping  the  book  shut.  "He  has  all  the  vir- 
tues of  a  demi-god  and  wears  a  collar 
three  inches  high — the  pictures  show  it.  If 
I  had  him  here  I'd  make  him  shovel  rock  till 
that  collar  looked  like  a  coal-heaver's  apron. 
Do  you  believe  in  miracles,  Johnny  Les- 
chelles?" 

"No,  why?"  Leschelles  had  finished  his  task 
and  settled  down  to  leisure. 


118        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

"That's  too  bad.  For  it's  going  to  take  a 
miracle  to  make  that  dam  hold  water." 

The  other  flushed. 

"I'm  not  here  to  say  what  it  will  or  will  not 
do." 

"Why  don't  you  sharpen  a  stick  and  go  after 
the  chief?" 

"And  get  fired?  Yes,  that  would  be  fine." 
Then  after  a  moment  he  continued  in  an  em- 
barrassed voice,  "I  wish  you  wouldn't  speak  of 
this  to  me  again,  Hemple.  I  can't  very  well 
listen  to  it,  you  know." 

"Right  you  are.  But  I'll  show  what's-his- 
name  yonder  a  thing  or  two."  Up  he  bounced 
and  shook  his  fist  at  Corbetson's  building. 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"He's  a — "  Dukane  broke  off,  discretion 
gaining  the  upper  hand. 

Just  then  the  doctor  entered  and  said  he 
would  sit  in  a  game  of  three-handed  bridge. 
This  was  a  diversion  from  an  unpleasant  sub- 
ject which  Leschelles  was  glad  to  welcome; 
therefore  they  were  presently  hard  at  it. 

"Did  you  ever  really  play  bridge  before?" 
the  doctor  inquired  of  Dukane,  with  that  pleas- 
ant irony  which  is  practised  by  the  best  players. 

"If  you  could  distinguish  the  difference  be- 


A  MAGICIAN'S  CAVE  119 

tween  a  finesse  and  a  box  of  pills  I  would  an- 
swer you,"  was  the  swift  reply.  "And  speak- 
ing of  pills,  Doc,  how  much  strychnine  does  it 
take  to  kill  a  healthy  man?" 

"Three  or  four  pounds  should  be  enough." 

"Good,  I  feared  it  might  take  a  hundred- 
weight or  so,  which  would  require  a  consider- 
able time  to  swallow.  I  want  to  do  a  quick  job 
with  my  victim." 

"Who's  to  have  the  honor  of  your  ministra- 
tions? Yourself?  If  I  played  a  hand  as 
weirdly  as  you  do — " 

"No,  it's  Satterfield.  The  brazen  villain's 
gone  riding  with  Miss  Crofton." 


CHAPTER  VI 

CHAMPION  OF  THE  WEAK 

T  AMES  A.  DUKANE,  after  a  month  of 
^  business  in  London  and  on  the  Continent, 
sailed  for  New  York  and  bethought  him  of  his 
son.  Inquiry  at  his  office  and  home  disclosed 
that  the  youth  had  not,  according  to  instruc- 
tions last  given,  put  in  an  appearance  after 
concluding  the  mission  he  had  had  the  San 
Francisco  branch  assign  him,  or  if  the  boy  had 
returned  he  had  sedulously  kept  himself  out  of 
sight.  A  wire  to  the  Pacific  Coast  brought  the 
information  that  Dukane  junior  had  reported 
a  month  previous,  received  a  ticket  to  Melton 
and  one  hundred  dollars,  and  taken  his  depar- 
ture for  the  destination  ascribed,  since  which 
time  nothing  had  been  heard  from  the  young 
man.  Resentment  made  the  father  repeat  once 
more  his  threat  to  make  or  break  the  incorrig- 
ible; then  he  summoned  his  confidential  clerk 
and  requested  him  to  find  from  what  address 
his  son  had  last  drawn  checks.  The  last  check 

120 


CHAMPION  OF  THE  WEAK  121 

issued  to  James  junior  was,  it  appeared,  the 
San  Francisco  check  for  one  hundred  dollars. 
Astonishment  dwelt  on  the  father's  face, 
where  the  confidential  clerk  had  seldom  beheld 
evidence  of  any  emotion. 

"What  do  you  make  out  of  that,  John?"  Du- 
kane  senior  finally  asked. 

"Perhaps  he's  grown  economical." 

"Then  it  will  be  the  marvel  of  the  age.  Find 
out  where  he  is."  And  with  the  confidence  that 
he  would  presently  be  apprised  of  the  where- 
abouts of  his  errant  progeny  he  put  the  matter 
aside  for  the  time  to  consider  the  plans  of  a 
light-house. 

Twenty-four  hours  later  the  clerk  informed 
him  that  no  trace  of  his  son  could  be  found. 
Apparently  the  boy  had  vanished  in  clean  air; 
the  ticket  supplied  him  had  been  used  to  Mel- 
ton, but  in  answer  to  a  telegram  dispatched  to 
the  manager  of  the  Silver  Peak  Dam  by  the 
San  Francisco  office,  in  which  a  description  of 
young  Dukane's  dress  and  mention  of  a  letter 
of  introduction  were  made,  an  answer  had 
been  received  that  no  such  person  had  presented 
himself.  A  wrinkle  appeared  in  Dukane  se- 
nior's forehead.  He  glared  with  compressed 
lips  past  his  clerk.  Where  was  the  young 


scoundrel?  Had  he  cut  loose  on  his  own  hook? 
An  angry  surge  of  feeling  filled  the  father's 
breast ;  he  would  let  him  go ;  the  boy  was  worth- 
less, a  spendthrift,  a  profligate,  a  ne'er-do-well, 
who  had  never  turned  his  hand  to  work  in  his 
life  and  who  would  probably  sink,  once  he  were 
deprived  of  a  supply  of  money,  to  the  muddy 
bottom.  That  this  should  be  the  end  of  his 
son !  His  confidential  clerk,  masking  his  face, 
awaited  his  employer's  further  directions; 
nevertheless  he  was  curious  as  to  what  action 
the  oft-tried  parent  would  now  take. 

"Locate  him,  but  don't  let  him  know,"  Du- 
kane  finally  said. 

That,  however,  was  not  easy,  as  the  secretary 
found  by  the  end  of  a  week,  and  he  more  than 
once  expressed  himself  forcibly  though  pri- 
vately as  to  Dukane  junior's  character  and  con- 
duct. In  fact,  nothing  whatever  could  by  the 
ordinary  means  at  his  disposal  be  found  of  the 
youth's  present  abode.  Finally  on  his  own  re- 
sponsibility he  placed  the  matter  in  the  hands 
of  the  police  of  various  Western  cities,  who  in- 
stituted a  search.  The  result  of  this  move  was 
the  finding  of  a  traveling  bag  marked  with 
Jimmy  Dukane's  initials,  said  bag  being  then 
in  a  pawn  shop  in  Butte,  Montana. 


CHAMPION  OF  THE  WEAK 

Corbetson  had  received  the  San  Francisco 
office's  telegram  describing  James  Dukane  ju- 
nior's personal  appearance  and  dress  and  men- 
tioning the  letter  of  introduction,  and  replied 
that  the  son  of  the  Company's  president  had 
not  visited  Silver  Peak  Basin,  and  promptly 
forgot  the  inquiry.  His  mind  was  worried  by 
more  immediate  and  important  affairs.  Be- 
tween the  impudent  tatterdemalion  sporting  a 
black  eye,  a  bruised  and  muddy  countenance, 
and  the  wealthy,  high-flying  son  of  whom  he 
had  heard  vague  and  not  particularly  creditable 
tales,  what  was  there  to  arouse  even  a  suspicion 
of  identity?  The  dilapidated  hobo's  first  claim 
that  his  name  was  Dukane  had  long  been  for- 
gotten, if  indeed  it  had  been  heard  at  all,  though 
the  hobo  himself,  now  blossomed  forth  into  an 
insolent,  presuming  workman  who  did  not 
know  his  proper  station,  \vas  a  vivid  enough 
personality.  Corbetson  was  growing  more  mo- 
rose. He  had  acquired  the  habit  of  sitting  in 
his  office  late  at  night  with  a  bottle  and  glass 
hidden  handily  in  a  compartment  of  his  desk, 
which  he  would  draw  forth  at  intervals.  The 
whiskey  warmed,  comforted  him,  relaxed  his 
mind  from  the  secret  strain  under  which  it  la- 
bored so  much  of  the  time.  During  those  late 


124.        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

hours  he  would  figure  and  calculate  on  a  pad 
of  paper,  the  sheets  of  which  he  afterwards 
always  carefully  destroyed ; — his  bank  account 
was  growing.  Once  this  construction  job  was 
finished,  the  harassment  of  its  worry  at  an  end, 
he  would  resign  from  the  employ  of  Dukane 
and  Company  forever.  Ah,  that  would  be  a  re- 
lief!  More  and  more  it  seemed  that  the  com- 
pany loomed  over  him  in  some  indefinite,  men- 
acing way ;  but  reason  told  him  this  was  but  the 
fancy  of  an  excited  imagination.  All  was  well. 
Only  one  or  two  things  were  necessary  to  be 
arranged  at  the  completion  of  the  work,  chief 
of  which  was  the  inducing  of  his  assistants  to 
sever  their  connection  with  the  company — an 
increased  salary  for  a  year  in  his  own  employ 
would  accomplish  this  end  and  eliminate  chance 
of  intimate  knowledge  of  this  dam  construction 
percolating  higher. 

But  the  new  element  of  Enid  Crofton's 
personality  had  entered  in  to  disturb  his  plans. 
Her  face,  her  eyes,  the  music  of  her  voice 
stirred  an  uncontrollable  hunger  which  he  could 
neither  crush  by  an  effort  of  will  nor  satisfy  by 
association.  Each  time  he  visited  her  home  he 
departed  more  ardently  anxious  to  see  her 
again,  to  be  with  her  for  hours.  This  feeling 


CHAMPION  OF  THE  WEAK  125 

he  masked  as  far  as  possible  from  his  assistants 
and  others,  being  naturally  secretive  and  cau- 
tious, yet  the  flame  burned  steadily  and  strong. 
For  her  part,  she  made  no  distinction  between 
him  and  the  others,  nor  indicated  any  sign  of 
reciprocal  liking ;  indeed,  she  was  quite  as  ready 
to  welcome  that  young  Hemple  who  had  played 
up  the  silly  rescue  at  the  dam  as  she  was  to 
greet  him  who  was  chief  and  manager.  What 
did  she  mean,  what  did  her  father  mean,  by 
showing  friendship  to  one  who  had  been  picked 
up  out  of  the  muck?  The  young  scoundrel 
would  have  been  discharged  weeks  ago  had  not 
the  girl's  imagination  been  kindled  by  his 
puppy  heroism.  It  was  sickening,  the  whole 
business !  Well,  she  would  undoubtedly  tire  of 
his  antics,  behold  the  real  nature  of  the  pre- 
sumptuous, talkative  fool,  and  dismiss  him 
from  further  acquaintance; — at  which  conclu- 
sion he  generally  arrived  each  night. 

It  would  have  indeed  been  a  satisfaction  to 
Corbetson  to  have  known  that  the  youth  on 
whose  head  he  poured  the  vial  of  his  impreca- 
tions was  in  difficulties  on  his  very  account. 
One  evening  when  Dukane  found  himself  the 
sole  companion  of  Enid  Crofton  upon  the  wide 
veranda  she  suddenly  interrupted  their  light 


126        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

conversation  by  introducing  the  topic  of  his 
mystery. 

'.'What  more  have  you  succeeded  in  learn- 
ing?" she  questioned. 

"Not  a  thing.  I  thought  you  had  forgotten 
that  matter." 

**I  would  have  done  so  but  for  one  thing. 
Did  you  ever  stop  to  think,  Mr.  Hemple,  on 
whom  your  mystery  reflects,  if,  in  truth,  there 
is  one  as  you  insist?" 

"I  haven't  insisted,  not  once  since  we  saw  the 
mill."' 

"Well,  you  insisted  that  day  at  least.  But 
you're  not  answering  my  question." 

"In  regard  to  reflecting  on  someone?" 

"There  is  only  one  conclusion  to  draw,  if  any 
wrong  in  this  project  is  being  committed." 
She  bent  her  brows  at  him  gravely. 

"What?"  he  inquired. 

"That  Mr.  Corbetson  is  implicated." 

"Well?"  Jimmy  responded,  with  great  calm. 

"As  he's  in  charge,  he's  responsible;  and 
therefore  you  accuse — " 

"Oh,  I  haven't  accused  anybody  of  anything. 
Apparently  you  have  given  this  a  great  deal  of 
thought  for  a  matter  which  struck  you  as 
ridiculous." 


CHAMPION  OF  THE  WEAK          127 

"I  have.     Mr.  Corbetson  is  our  friend." 

"What  would  you  like  to  have  me  do?" 
Jimmy  asked,  cynically.  "Get  down  on  my 
knees  and  do  homage  to  him?" 

She  threw  back  her  head  in  anger.  "Of 
course  not,  but  you  could  at  least  be  loyal  to 
your  chief." 

"Can't  do  it.  He'd  fire  me  in  a  minute  if 
he  dared." 

"Why  shouldn't  he  dare?" 

"Well,  you  know  you've  taken  me  under 
your  wing,"  the  youth  stated  brazenly,  "and  so 
it  wouldn't  do  at  all." 

Enid  rose,  with  flashing  eyes. 

"You're  very  bold  and  impertinent.  Mr. 
Corbetson  is  at  full  liberty  to  dismiss  you 
any  time  and  I  shall  inform  him  that  I'm  under 
no  obligations  to  you.  After  all  you  are 
only-" 

"Quite  right.  I'm  only  a  day  laborer," 
cried  Jimmy,  bounding  to  his  feet  and  seizing 
his  hat.  "You're  under  no  obligations  to  me 
and  never  have  been,  I  assure  you  freely.  It 
is  I  who  am  under  obligations  to  you  for  your 
many  kindnesses ;  and  I  perceive  that  you  con- 
sider me  a  poor  creditor.  Have  no  fear,  I'll 
not  offend  you  by  my  presence  in  the  future." 


128        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

"I  fear  that  you  would  find  it  difficult  to 
meet  Mr.  Corbetson  here  when  we  all  know 
that  you  do  not  like  him." 

"Mr.  Corbetson  may  find  it  embarrassing  to 
meet  me  one  of  these  days.  Good  evening." 
And  he  stalked  down  the  gravel  path,  clothed 
in  what  he  hoped  was  impressive  dignity. 

Left  to  herself  the  girl  dropped  into  a  chair 
with  pulses  still  running  rapidly.  Indignant 
at  him,  angry  with  herself,  and  scarcely  under- 
standing why  she  had  leaped  so  quickly  to  the 
defence  of  the  chief  engineer  for  whom  she 
cared  nothing,  she  stared  after  his  rapidly  mov- 
ing figure  until  it  disappeared  down  the  moon- 
lit road.  A  flush  of  shame  burned  her  cheeks 
as  she  recalled  how  she  had  almost  uttered 
words  of  disparagement  concerning  his  posi- 
tion in  the  camp ;  and  moreover  she  knew  that 
whereas  Hemple  did  not  like  Corbetson  she 
herself  instinctively  disliked  the  man.  What 
if  the  youth  were  right?  What  if  there  were 
something  wrong  in  the  camp?  But  her  vis- 
itor was  so  assured,  so  egotistical,  so —  A 
fresh  wave  of  anger  swept  over  her,  while  she 
vowed  never  to  see  him  again. 

In  an  access  of  restlessness  she  paced  the 
lawn,  turning  over  in  her  mind  the  circum- 


CHAMPION  OF  THE  WEAK          129 

stance  of  her  rescue  by  the  youth,  and  subse- 
quent events.  He  himself  was  the  mystery. 
Presently  two  of  her  father's  cowboys  who  had 
been  on  a  visit  to  Tunneltown  rode  past  her  on 
their  ponies  and  she  caught  Hemple's  name  on 
their  tongue. 

"What  is  it,  Jack?  What  happened  to  him?" 
she  called  to  the  speaker,  approaching. 

They  drew  rein. 

"It's  not  what's  happened,  but  what's  goin' 
to  happen,  Miss  Enid.  There's  a  big  bully 
over  in  camp  who's  got  it  in  for  the  young  fel- 
low. Seems  like  the  boy  called  his  game." 

"Tell  me  about  it." 

"Well,  you  see  there's  a  lame  fellow  named 
Hop  Spencer  who  this  Lantry  took  to  kickin' 
around  for  fun,  so  Hemple  got  a  bunch  of  his 
friends  together  and  jumped  him  one  evening 
when  the  bruiser  started  to  make  merry." 

"Served  him  right  for  picking  on  a  helpless 
cripple." 

"Lantry  knows  Hemple's  the  organizer  and 
swears  he'll  get  even.  Other  day  he  cussed 
Hemple  in  Tunneltown  and  the  boy  let  him 
have  it  with  a  whip." 

"But  what  can  the  man  do?"  she  inquired, 
anxiously. 


130        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

"He'll  wait  till  he  catches  Hemple  alone." 
"If  his  friends  are  organized,  that  won't  hap- 
pen." 

"Oh,  I  don't  know.  Lantry's  got  half  a 
dozen  men  like  himself  who'll  jump  into  a  fight 
at  the  drop  of  a  hat." 

"It  isn't  right — it  oughtn't  to  be  allowed." 
The  cowboy  grinned.  "How  you  goin'  to 
stop  it,  Miss  Enid?  The  camp  picks  up  a  lot 
of  riff-raff  and  hoboes ;  they're  always  fightin' 
among  themselves  and  about  the  best  thing  is 
to  let  'em  scrap  it  out  like  a  lot  of  dogs.  From 
what  I  hear  this  young  Hemple  sort  of  likes 
a  mix-up  himself,  so  Miller  says.  Of  course, 
durin'  workin'  hours  they  keep  quiet,  for 
they're  on  pay  time  then,  and  consequently  it's 
likely  to  be  nights  that  trouble  will  start. 
Well,  I'm  with  Hemple — that  Lantry's  a  bad 
nut.  And  to  jump  on  a  cripple,  that's  rotten." 
"I  hope  nothing  happens  to  Mr.  Hemple." 
"No  tellin'."  And  bidding  her  good-night, 
the  pair  rode  on  towards  the  corrals. 

With  this  fresh  information  she  beheld  the 
young  man  whom  she  had  so  angrily  dismissed 
appearing  in  a  new  and  romantic  light  and  her 
heart  experienced  a  sharper  reproach  for  her 
late  act.  If  he  were  not  loyal  to  his  chief,  he 


CHAMPION  OF  THE  WEAK  131 

was  at  least  loyal  to  his  friends  and  ready  to  de- 
fend them;  she  could  imagine  the  spirited  re- 
sistance he  had  made  in  behalf  of  the  cripple, 
imagine  his  black  eyes  flashing  and  his  form 
taut  with  warlike  fierceness.  He  was  a  very 
fearless  young  fellow  to  take  up  bludgeons 
with  the  man  Lantry  (how  literally  bludgeons 
she  did  not  guess).  The  upshot  of  her  mus- 
ings was  that  she  determined  to  speak  to  the 
chief  engineer  about  this  scandalous  state  of 
outlawry — for  outlawry  it  seemed  when  a  brute 
such  as  had  been  described  to  her  could  intimi- 
date weaker  men.  Had  Dukane  known  the 
substance  of  her  reflections  he  would  have 
swelled  with  fresh  wrath — he  intimidated,  in- 
deed! 

About  this  time  Hemple  became  aware  that 
the  greater  world  outside  of  Silver  Peak  Basin 
was  concerned  with  the  whereabouts  of  a  certain 
individual,  by  name  James  A.  Dukane,  Jr. 
That  any  fuss  should  be  made  over  the 
comings  and  goings  of  this  person  struck 
him  at  first  with  surprise;  for  though  the 
yellow  journals  had  in  the  past  now  and 
again  given  an  inch  or  two  of  space  to 
the  young  man  it  had  not  been  in  a  par- 
ticularly laudatory  vein  and  chiefly  to  ex- 


132        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

hibit  him  as  an  example  of  the  second  genera- 
tion decadent;  otherwise  he  had  pursued  his 
way  in  peace.  His  second  feeling  was  one  of 
satisfaction  at  now  being  taken  seriously,  if  not 
favorably.  How  the  stir  came  to  his  attention 
befell  thus :  He  one  day  observed  a  man  talk- 
ing busily  with  the  station  agent,  a  man  not  an 
inhabitant  of  Melton  certainly,  and  Jimmy  idly 
leaned  upon  his  shovel,  being  at  the  time  en- 
gaged in  loading  coal  into  his  wagon  from  a 
freight  car,  to  consider  the  stranger.  Presently 
the  agent  gestured  towards  him,  whereupon  the 
man  bent  his  steps  toward  the  spot. 

"Are  you  from  the  camp?"  he  asked,  lifting 
himself  up  on  a  wagon-hub. 

"Yes." 

"I  want  a  talk  with  you."  The  man  mounted 
to  the  seat. 

"Go  ahead — but  you  can't  sell  me  any  gold 
rings,  patent  medicines,  or  mining  stock." 

"You'll  do  for  this  village,"  the  other  re- 
torted drily,  "but  keep  off  the  pavements. 
They  serve  fresh  ones  like  you  every  night  for 
supper." 

"And  the  stale  ones  go  to  the  garbage-pile. 
How  did  you  miss  it?" 

The  man  smiled.     "I  guess  you'll  do  any- 


CHAMPION  OF  THE  WEAK          133 

where.  But  cut  out  vaudeville  talk  and  give 
me  some  information." 

Jimmy  sat  down  on  the  coal  and  proceeded 
to  manufacture  a  cigarette. 

"I'm  the  last  edition  of  Britannica — name 
the  subject." 

The  visitor  unfolded  his  story.  A  young 
spendthrift  who  lived  in  New  York,  but  had 
made  a  trip  to  the  Pacific  Coast,  was  missing 
and  for  the  last  two  or  three  weeks  the  police 
of  all  the  Western  cities  had  been  making  a 
quiet  but  unsuccessful  hunt  for  him.  Volun- 
tary disappearance  on  the  part  of  the  boy  was 
one  theory,  foul  play  another.  The  young  fel- 
low's father,  who  was  the  president  of  the  Du- 
kane  company,  was  behind  the  search;  while 
the  speaker  himself  was  a  newspaper  reporter 
of  San  Francisco  sent  by  his  paper  to  run  down 
the  mystery — for  a  mystery  more  than  that 
which  would  lie  in  a  simple  evanishment  was 
suspected  because  of  the  reticence  on  the  part 
of  the  elder  Dukane  to  discuss  the  matter. 
There  might  even  be  a  big  sensation  in  it.  At 
any  rate  the  prominence  of  the  parties  con- 
cerned would  make  a  solution  of  the  affair  good 
news.  Young  Dukane  had  set  out  for  Melton 
and  the  Silver  Peak  Reservoir  camp,  and  to 


judge  by  his  past  record  in  New  York  and 
other  places,  if  he  had  arrived  the  camp  would 
certainly  have  known  it. 

"He  must  be  a  lovely  young  person,"  Jimmy 
remarked. 

"A  spender  all  right." 

Safe  in  a  mask  of  coal  dust  which  gave  his 
countenance  the  sooty  hue  of  an  Ethiopian,  Du- 
kane  inquired  what  appearance  the  lost  prodi- 
gal presented. 

"About  your  build  —  dissipated  —  well 
dressed." 

"Perhaps  he  eloped." 

"That  would  be  like  him,  but  he  didn't  have 
any  money  to  speak  of.  He  disappeared  here. 
The  ticket  he  used  has  been  traced  and  it 
showed  without  question  that  he  came  to  this 
dropping-off  place  and  apparently  dropped 
clear  off  the  earth.  Nobody  has  seen  him, 
though  the  hotel  man  over  there  remem- 
bers a  young  fellow  coming  in  one  night,  but 
he  isn't  sure.  Besides,  he  doesn't  keep  a 
register." 

"That's  a  tough  hole  yonder,  as  I  know. 
Maybe  they  murdered  him,  thinking  he  had 
cash."  And  Jimmy  turned  a  suspicious  look 
on  the  hostelry. 


CHAMPION  OF  THE  WEAK  135 

"I  wonder — "  the  man  broke  off  in  his  sur- 
mise and  also  gazed  at  the  building. 

"Did  you  see  a  hard-looking  man  in  there, 
a  fellow  with  a  shaven  head  and  wicked  eye? 
Say,  he's  just  tough  enough  to  stick  a  knife 
into  anybody  that  he  thought  had  coin.  Then 
their  meals  alone  would  kill  a  man.  But  take 
my  tip,  the  fellow  with  the  billiard-ball  head 
is  your  one  sure  thing  here  in  Melton." 

The  man  pondered;  the  suggestion,  he  con- 
sidered, was  not  at  all  unlikely  and  it  dove- 
tailed with  the  foul  play  theory.  Remember- 
ing the  steely  appearance  of  the  tavern-keep- 
er's eyes  when  he  had  first  seen  him,  the  thin 
lips,  the  expressionless  face,  he  conceived  that 
the  prospect  of  gaining  money  might  have 
tempted  him  to  some  villainy.  Dukane  junior 
had  certainly  arrived  at  the  station,  alighted; 
almost  conclusively  it  appeared  that  he  had  not 
gone  to  the  company  camp ;  and  as  that  was  his 
purpose  in  coming  hither  the  inference  was  to 
be  drawn  that  he  would  not  have  departed 
without  making  it  a  visit. 

"And  I'll  bet  money  the  body's  buried  in  the 
cellar,"  said  Jimmy  with  conviction.  "Look 
here,  send  me  a  copy  of  your  paper  with  the 
write-up  in." 


136        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

"Don't  be  in  a  hurry,  the  corpse  isn't  dug 
up  yet,"  the  reporter  advised,  as  he  descended 
from  his  seat.  "Now  don't  talk  this  to  every- 
one you  meet.  If  anything  comes  of  this 
you'll  get  a  piece  of  money." 

"I  need  about  ten  dollars  now." 

But  the  reporter  to  all  appearances  did  not 
hear  the  statement,  at  least  he  continued  to 
walk  away  without  reply.  Satisfaction  Jimmy 
had,  however,  in  imagining  the  newspaper  fer- 
ret on  the  track  of  the  thin-lipped  individual 
who  had  been  instrumental  in  pitching  Dukane 
into  the  street  his  first  morning  in  Melton. 
One  regret  he  presently  developed  as  he  con- 
sidered the  conversation,  in  that  he  had  not 
implicated  the  bartender  who  had  wielded  the 
deadly  beer-bottle  at  the  time  of  his  encounter. 
If  now  he  could  have  planted  a  body  under  the 
hotel  convenient  to  discovery,  revenge  would 
have  been  certain. 

It  was  next  day  while  speculating  on  what 
progress  the  man  from  San  Francisco  had 
made  that  that  person  came  violently  out  of  the 
depot  to  where  he  shoveled  coal.  The  journal- 
ist's face  indicated  that  all  had  not  gone  joy- 
fully in  the  course  of  his  investigation. 

"You  young  devil,"  he  shouted,  "what  did 


CHAMFION  OF  THE  WEAK  137 

you  mean  by  sending  me  over  there  yesterday 
on  a  wild-goose  chase!  There  isn't  any  cel- 
lar." 

"Then  they  put  the  body  in  the  cistern." 

"Look  at  my  face,  how  that  bartender  beat 
it  up.  All  because  of  you!  You  knew  that 
the  man  was  honest,  everybody  here  knows  it, 
depot  agent  and  all.  He  said  if  any  person 
around  here  would  commit  murder  it  would 
be  you,  and  I  believe  it,  for  you  nearly  got  me 
killed.  I've  half  a  notion  to  climb  up  there 
and  take  it  out  of  your  skin,  you  unwashed 
loafer." 

"Didn't  I  tell  you  yesterday  that  you  were 
a  stale  one?"  Jimmy  remarked  calmly.  "Can't 
be  much  of  a  paper  that  will  send  a  'has  been' 
like  you  to  hunt  news.  Well,  I'm  accommo- 
dating. Climb  up,  if  you  want  a  drink  of  my 
blood." 

Dukane  laid  down  his  shovel,  but  the  re- 
porter made  no  move  to  accept  the  invitation. 

"I'm  going  out  to  the  camp,  but  not  in  your 
wagon." 

"That's  agreeable,"  Jimmy  stated,  as  the 
man  moved  off  down  the  siding  to  where  an- 
other teamster  was  at  work. 

Out  of  the  incident  Dukane  nevertheless 


138        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

had  much  food  for  thought.  The  fact  that 
liis  father  was  anxious  on  his  account  caused 
him  little  anxiety,  but  fear  lest  his  identity 
should  be  discovered  before  he  had  time  to  in- 
vestigate the  Roseland  Cement  Company  and 
the  graft  which  he  suspected  was  being  oper- 
ated in  connection  with  it  brought  him  uneasi- 
ness. He  had  started  on  this  job  and  he  had 
never  been  a  quitter.  It  would  be  much  sim- 
pler to  get  at  the  dishonesty  from  the  bottom 
up  than  from  the  top  down;  once  the  persons 
involved  guessed  that  they  were  under  a 
shadow,  all  evidence  of  their  work  would  be 
destroyed.  Further,  he  was  enjoying  himself 
immensely,  what  with  Corbetson,  what  with 
Lantry,  what  with  the  mystery  of  the  dam. 
To  be  haled  back  to  the  city  and  chucked  into 
an  office  did  not  suit  his  fancy  in  any  respect. 
Outdoors  for  him!  Then  there  was  a  certain 
high  and  mighty  young  lady  who  had  to  be 
taught  the  waywardness  of  her  action;  and  in 
the  pleasant  anticipation  of  this  teaching  he 
leaned  so  long  upon  his  shovel,  with  an  idiotic 
grin  engraving  his  coal-begrimed  face,  that 
Miller  shouted  to  know  if  he  had  paralysis. 

Reflection  upon  the  subject  of  Enid  Crof- 
ton  brought  into  his  mind,  however,  a  doubt 


CHAMPION  OF  THE  WEAK  139 

as  to  the  degree  of  success  he  might  expect  in 
this  undertaking.  Her  nature  was  too  direct, 
too  straightforward,  too  uncompromising 
where  right  was  concerned,  to  sacrifice  princi- 
ple; and  it  was  this  fact  that  gave  her  in  his 
eyes  her  singular  charm.  She  was  too  honest 
for  trickery,  too  proud  for  subterfuge,  and  too 
ardent  for  subtlety — which  were  qualities  only 
too  common  in  those  young  ladies  with  whom 
he  had  had  acquaintance  in  New  York.  There- 
fore the  doubt  grew  and  grew,  and  by  the  time 
he  had  mounted  the  hill  on  his  way  home,  where 
over  his  horses'  heads  he  could  look  down  upon 
the  Crofton  ranch-house  nestling  in  the  basin, 
he  had  reached  the  conclusion  that  he  had  not 
on  the  occasion  of  their  last  meeting  conducted 
himself  in  a  manner  to  win  her,  or  his  own, 
high  respect.  Distinctly  he  had  been  wrong 
and  he  had  acted  like  a  spoiled  boy. 

He  came  into  the  bunk-house  in  an  unenvi- 
able state  of  mind,  where  as  a  result  he  had  a 
hot  interchange  of  compliments  with  Lantry, 
a  scowl  for  everyone  else  except  Spencer,  and 
even  a  short  word  for  that  cripple. 

"What's  wrong,  Jimmy?"  Spencer  inquired 
anxiously,  sitting  down  beside  him  on  the  bunk. 

Dukane  sat  with  his  jaw  between  his  fists. 


140        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

"Nothing,  just  nothing — that  is,  everything. 
I'm  sick  of  myself." 

"Not  goin'  to  quit?"  was  the  still  more  anx- 
ious question. 

"I  should  say  not!" 

"Guess  it's  Lantry  then.  Can't  we  sort  of 
figure  out  a  way  to  do  him  up  for  keeps,  run 
him  out  of  the  camp?" 

"No,  it  isn't  on  account  of  that  scoundrel. 
He  don't  scare  me  for  a  minute.  It's  just 
me." 

In  baffled  wonder  his  friend  cast  about  in 
his  mind  for  some  solution  of  this  unusual  ex- 
hibition of  gloom.  Hemple  had  heretofore 
been  the  incarnation  of  liveliness,  good  spirits, 
dash  and  optimism ;  to  see  him  now  down  in  the 
mouth  bespoke  some  terrible  catastrophe  of 
spirit;  and  Hop  Spencer  was  not  in  the  habit 
of  dealing  with  catastrophes  of  soul,  either  in 
others  or  in  himself.  So  he  remained  silent, 
mouth  open,  while  his  simple  mind  made  ex- 
traordinary excursions  to  the  horizon  of  imag- 
ination in  an  endeavor  to  discover  some  plausi- 
ble explanation  of  his  friend's  profound  unhap- 
piness. 

"Wish  I  could  do  something  for  you,"  he 
said  at  last,  helplessly. 


CHAMPION  OF  THE  WEAK 

Dukane  looked  up,  perceived  the  sympathy, 
worry  and  trouble  upon  the  cripple's  counte- 
nance and  immediately  smiled  sunnily. 

"Why,  you  old  woman,"  he  exclaimed,  clap- 
ping Spencer  on  the  shoulder,  "nothing's  the 
matter,  except  that  I  made  an  unmitigated 
fool  of  myself  and  am  merely  telling  myself 
about  it." 

"Well,  that's  nothing,"  was  Spencer's  re- 
lieved answer.  "I  reckon  we  all  do  that  at 
times,  from  the  chief  down  to  me." 

It  was  with  burning  envy  that  Dukane  saw 
Leschelles  make  his  way  about  dusk  up  the 
road  to  the  ranch-house.  When  it  grew  dark 
he  found  himself  moving  in  the  same  direction, 
to  halt,  however,  some  distance  off  and  gaze 
from  afar  with  immense  yearning  at  his  lost 
paradise.  Thus  for  a  time  he  suffered  a  pleas- 
ing melancholy,  until  at  last  he  had  squeezed 
the  last  drop  out  of  this  emotion,  and  so  wan- 
dered back  to  hunt  up  Callahan  for  a  chat. 
But  it  was  not  without  reaching  a  decision ;  he 
would  promptly  apologize  to  Enid  at  the  first 
opportunity. 

In  camp  he  again  ran  afoul  of  Lantry,  who 
was  accompanied  by  two  or  three  of  his  fel- 
lows. Jimmy,  deciding  discretion  to  be  the 


THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

better  part  of  valor  upon  the  present  occasion, 
started  to  give  ground  and  pass  by  on  one  side 
with  all  the  unostentation  of  a  pup  pursuing  a 
distant  goal.  He  was  not  to  win  past  so 
easily;  Lantry  checked  his  advance  by  block- 
ing the  way. 

"Afraid  of  me  now,  are  you?"  he  jeered. 

"No,  I'm  not  afraid  of  you  at  any  time,  you 
thug;  move  aside  or  I'll  put  you  to  sleep,"  re- 
joined Dukane,  suddenly  adopting  a  policy  of 
boldness,  though  with  inward  trembling. 

Lantry  leaped  forward  and  struck  a  blow 
that  knocked  him  a  dozen  feet  and  left  him 
stunned  and  prostrate.  When  he  recovered 
himself,  the  men  had  passed  on,  laughing 
among  themselves  and  flinging  back  taunts. 
Jimmy  rose  to  his  feet  unsteadily ;  he  was  sick, 
very  sick,  but  in  his  breast  there  flamed  a  fierce 
determination  immediately  to  square  the  score. 
He  hastened  to  the  bunk-house,  he  summoned 
his  cohort  of  warriors,  held  a  whispered  coun- 
cil with  them  outside  and  then  arming  them 
with  their  cudgels,  led  them  forth  on  a  noiseless 
hunt.  Of  this  reprisal  Lantry  and  his  two 
companions  were  first  apprised  when  all  at  once 
a  dozen  shadows  flitted  out  of  the  darkness 
about  and  fell  on  them  with  wordless  fury. 


CHAMPION  OF  THE  WEAK          143 

The  three  men  sought  to  flee  but  were  headed 
off,  were  driven  hither  and  thither  under  a 
shower  of  blows  and  cuffs  and  kicks.  Did 
they  swing  on  one  assailant,  instantly  half  a 
dozen  were  striking  them  behind.  The  sound 
of  the  melee,  the  cries,  shouts,  yells  of  pain 
and  calls  for  help  finally  reached  the  bunk- 
houses,  which  erupted  a  host  of  men  to  find  the 
cause  of  this  unwonted  alarm.  Upon  their 
arrival  at  the  spot,  however,  only  Lantry  and 
his  two  allies  were  discovered  and  they  in  a 
state  of  dilapidation;  their  bodies  mauled  and 
bruised,  their  heads  and  faces  bleeding,  their 
nerves  badly  shaken,  their  clothes  ripped  and 
torn.  In  the  state  of  excitement  which  gov- 
erned and  in  consequence  of  the  darkness 
which  prevailed  during  the  encounter  they 
could  give  little  intelligence  of  the  battle. 
Lantry  nevertheless  divined  the  instigator  of 
it  and  swore  that  he  would  have  Hemple's 
heart.  Jimmy  and  his  men  sat  in  their  empty 

bunk-house  calmly  awaiting  the  issue. 
•          •••••• 

Dukane  senior  looked  at  his  confidential 
clerk  from  under  frowning  brows  which  that 
subordinate  had  had  occasion  of  late  to  know 
only  too  well. 


144.        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

"I  want  that  boy  found,"  he  stated,  slowly, 
distinctly  and  decisively,  and  with  finality. 

"But  if  he's  dead — "  the  clerk  began.  He 
hoped  that  Dukane  junior  was  dead;  he  had 
cursed  him  heartily  more  than  once  since  the 
boy's  disappearance.  Jimmy  had  become  his 
burden,  his  nightmare,  his  nemesis. 

"He's  not  dead,"  Dukane  senior  said. 
"You  can't  kill  young  animals  like  him — and 
I  want  him.  He's  my  boy,  my  flesh  and 
blood!" 

The  clerk  withdrew  to  continue  his  distracted 
search;  the  parent  sank  into  thought.  Could 
it  indeed  be  that  his  son  had  met  death  by  some 
accident,  some  misadventure?  Was  it  not  his 
own  fault  as  much  as  the  boy's  that  Jimmy  had 
run  wild,  made  no  use  of  his  talents,  had  fallen 
away  from  him?  If  he  had  devoted  less  time 
to  the  vast  business  machine  which  he  had  cre- 
ated, if  he  had  less  considered  light-houses  and 
subways  and  given  more  of  his  love  and 
thought  to  Jimmy  the  latter  would  have  been 
a  more  faithful  son. 

Under  the  lash  of  this  self -accusation  he  rose 
and  paced  to  and  fro  across  the  room ;  the  roar 
of  the  city  did  not  reach  his  ears,  the  presence 
of  the  immense  hurly-burly  of  which  he  was  a 


145 

part  was  lost  to  him,  while  his  mind  groped 
out  into  that  distant  West  in  which  the  boy 
must  somewhere  dwell. 

All  at  once  he  halted.  "If  they  do  not  find 
him,"  he  said,  "then  I  shall  go  myself."  With 
a  fresh  access  of  determination  he  strode  to  his 
desk  and  wrote  a  number  of  telegrams.  "A 
little  longer,  then  I'll  go  myself." 


CHAPTER  VII 

BY  THE  RIVER 

<  <  T  ACKNOWLEDGE  that  I  was  wrong, 
•*•   I  can't  be  fond  of  Corbetson,"  Jimmy 
said. 

"How  ridiculous!  It's  not  necessary  that 
you  be  fond  of  him,"  the  girl  responded. 

"Well,  I  can't  be  loyal  to  him — not  on  two 
dollars  and  a  half  a  day." 
"You  can  treat  him  civilly." 
"All  right,  I'll  do  it  because  of  you." 
"No,  not  for  me;  it  must  be  on  principle." 
"I  have  no  principles.     It  shall  be  for  you, 
or  it  will  not  be."     And  he  said  with  a  sudden 
earnestness  that  stupefied  her,  "I'd  do  any- 
thing for  you,  Enid." 

For  a  moment  she  knew  not  which  she 
would  do, — blush,  gasp  or  laugh;  but  she  con- 
cluded by  doing  no  one  of  the  three — she 
turned  aside  and  moved  up  the  stream. 

They  were  fishing.  Jimmy  deciding  after 
a  brief  exile  from  the  light  of  her  presence  to 

146 


BY  THE  RIVER  147 

subdue  his  pride  and  make  such  amends  as 
would  restore  him  once  more  to  the  favored 
circle  had  accordingly  taken  a  day  off,  gone  to 
the  ranch-house  where  he  made  elaborate  apol- 
ogies and  manifested  a  rather  suspicious  con- 
trition, and  had  begged  her  to  join  him  in  a 
fishing  excursion.  Up  the  little  river  there- 
fore they  were  now  making  their  way,  vastly 
more  interested  in  themselves  than  in  the  trout 
which  lurked  in  cool  shady  pools  or  in  foaming 
rapids.  Overhead  a  few  billowy  clouds  floated 
across  the  clear  azure  of  the  sky,  an  azure 
which  Silver  Peak  rearing  its  lofty  crest  strove 
in  vain  to  pierce.  But  the  mountain's  huge 
front  nevertheless  loomed  gigantic  and  as  they 
ascended  the  stream  and  began  to  climb  its 
first  slope,  down  which  the  water  raced  with  a 
louder  song,  they  experienced  a  sobering  sense 
of  its  might,  an  expanding  grasp  of  its  maj- 
esty. 

"Let  us  sit  down  awhile,"  Enid  said,  seating 
herself  upon  a  rock.  "See  the  glitter  of  the 
sunlight  on  the  snow  so  high  up  yonder.  How- 
fine  it  would  be  to  soar  like  an  eagle  up  and 
up  until  one  was  lost  in  the  ether!" 

Jimmy  gazed  at  the  height  she  indicated, 
then  at  her  clear  oval  face  and  rapt  eyes;  in 


148        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

imagination  she  circled  like  the  great  bird  she 
had  named  and  floated  between  earth  and 
heaven.  Somehow  now  as  never  before  the 
simple  sincerity  of  her  nature,  the  clear,  honest 
current  of  her  soul,  flowing  as  sweet  and 
straight  and  pure  as  the  water  of  the  mountain 
stream  at  their  feet,  gripped  him  with  a 
strange,  a  new,  a  wonderful  emotion  of  de- 
light. Unconsciously  she  had  spoken  to  the 
mountain,  reached  forth  a  hand  as  to  a  compe- 
tent and  trusted  brother.  Jimmy  closed  his 
eyes  and  breathed  a  deep,  delicious,  satisfying 
draught  of  happiness.  Then  his  eyes  popped 
open  in  astonishment;  astonishment  it  was, 
nothing  less.  For — for  he  loved  her! 

"I  think  I'll  fish,"  he  gasped. 

Slowly  she  turned  about,  coming  to  earth. 
She  perceived  the  youth  stupidly  regarding 
her. 

"Why,  what  is  the  matter  with  you?"  she 
asked,  perplexed. 

"I — I  don't  know.     I  feel  queer." 

"You  look  not  only  queer  but  foolish.  Does 
the  sudden  desire  to  catch  a  fish  affect  you  in 
that  fashion?  Well,  what  will  happen  when 
you  really  have  one  on  your  hook?" 

"I  don't  know." 


BY  THE  RIVER  149 

She  gazed  at  him  intently,  all  at  once  caught 
in  a  mesh  of  anxiety. 

"Is  it  the  climb ?  Do  you  feel  faint?  Have 
you  a  weak  heart?" 

"My  heart — yes,  that's  it,  my  heart." 

Fear  now  took  full  possession  of  the  girl; 
she  sprang  up  and  laying  hands  upon  his  shoul- 
ders forced  him  to  be  seated,  then  she  dabbled 
her  handkerchief  in  the  icy  water  and  laid  it 
on  his  brow,  pressing  it  down  with  firm  fingers. 
A  shiver  shook  Dukane's  frame  as  the  chill 
penetrated  to  his  skull;  two  rivulets  coursed 
along  his  face,  one  down  each  cheek,  and  a 
sickly  idiotic  grin  distorted  his  countenance. 

"Feel  better?"  she  asked,  solicitously. 

"Yes,  oh,  yes." 

"You  won't  faint?" 

"No." 

She  withdrew,  stepped  back  a  pace  and  scru- 
tinized him.  The  examination  proved  satis- 
factory. 

"Now  wipe  your  cheeks.  Think  you  can  go 
on?" 

"I  would  go  to  heaven  with  you,"  was  the 
adoring  answer. 

"You  appear  entirely  recovered,"  she  said, 
drily. 


150        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

"Oh,  but  it's  just  begun  and  I'll  never  get 
over  it!" 

"Then  we'd  best  go  home." 

"No." 

"I  don't  believe  you  were  going  to  faint  at 
all,"  she  exclaimed  with  dawning  suspicion, 
with  indignation. 

"But  it  helped  me,  the  handkerchief.  I  like 
it." 

"Is  your  heart  weak,  or  is  it  not?"  she  de- 
manded imperiously. 

"It  isn't  what  you  would  call  exactly  weak," 
was  the  cautious  reply,  "but  it  needs  attention. 
It  jumps  up  and  down." 

"It  what?" 

"Well,  it  turns  somersaults  and  performs— 
I  just  found  it  out.  It's  this  way;  you  look  at 
me,  then  it  turns  over  and  I — I — that's  all." 

A  slow  flush  suffused  her  face. 

"I  think  we'd  best  begin  our  fishing,"  she 
stated. 

"Perhaps  that  would  be  best,"  he  replied, 
though  his  assent  was  not  hearty. 

"And  I  will  take  good  care  not  to  come  too 
close  to  you." 

"You  need  not,  for  I'll  be  at  your  heels  like 
a  crawling  dog." 


BY  THE  RIVER  151 

The  stream  presently  issued  from  a  small 
canyon  where  boulders  blocked  its  course  and 
turned  it  into  a  foaming,  boiling  torrent. 
Jimmy  was  content  to  fish  for  awhile  in  peace 
in  order  that  the  tumult  in  his  brain,  the  strange 
confusion  of  new  knowledge,  revelation,  won- 
der and  happiness  should  have  time  to  fall  into 
some  kind  of  order.  For  probably  the  first 
time  in  his  short  but  palpitating  career  he  felt 
himself  timid,  abashed,  confronted  with  cir- 
cumstances which  he  could  not  instantly  re- 
solve in  an  off-hand  way;  the  girl  on  a  sudden 
assumed  a  radiant,  splendid  personality  such 
as  he  had  never  perceived  any  other  being  to 
possess.  An  ineffable  longing  to  be  always 
near  her,  with  her,  to  make  endless  the  queer 
happiness  which  had  dropped  upon  him,  stirred 
so  strongly  in  his  heart  and  agitated  him  to  so 
great  a  degree  that  he  did  ask  himself  pres- 
ently if  the  altitude  had  not  indeed  made  him 
giddy.  To  assure  himself  on  this  point  he 
thumped  himself  vigorously  upon  the  chest, 
then  listened  to  see  if  he  could  distinguish 
under  the  curtain  of  the  river's  sound  any  rat- 
tle, any  unfamiliar  echo,  which  would  reveal  a 
disorder  of  that  newly  discovered  organ,  his 
heart.  He  detected  nothing — and  besides  he 


152        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

knew  altitude  had  nothing  whatever  to  do  with 
the  matter.  And  then  what  of  this  chastened 
dove-like  feeling? 

"Jimmy  Dukane,  you've  got  the  little  arrow 
in  your  bosom  at  last,"  he  said  to  himself,  with 
profound  conviction. 

Meanwhile  he  had  stood  so  long  in  reflection 
that  Enid  Crofton  had  passed  out  of  sight 
around  a  jutting  ledge;  he  suddenly  discovered 
this  with  consternation  and  seizing  his  pole,  the 
fish  basket  and  the  box  of  lunch  began  a  hur- 
ried pursuit.  When  he  came  up  with  her 
again,  he  found  her  busily  engaged  in  a  strug- 
gle with  a  large  trout  which  had  struck  her 
hook  and  which  was  now  fighting  back  and 
forth  in  a  pool.  With  infinite  skill  she  was 
playing  it  towards  the  edge  where  she  stood, 
guiding  it  away  from  sharp  rocks  that  might 
sever  the  line,  keeping  a  firm  control  over  its 
wild  rushes  which  made  the  reel  sing,  and  grad- 
ually wearing  down  its  strength. 

"Let  me  help,"  Dukane  exclaimed,  in  ex- 
citement. 

"Don't  you  dare!  This  is  my  fish!"  came 
from  her  tense  lips. 

Her  lithe  figure  moved  backward  and  for- 
ward along  the  narrow  sandy  strand,  following 


BY  THE  RIVER  153 

the  course  of  the  fish.  With  the  flush  of  bat- 
tle on  her  cheek,  with  eyes  bright  and  alive, 
she  seemed  lovelier  than  ever. 

"It's  coming,  it's  coming!"  she  cried.  "Use 
the  landing  net!" 

Through  the  limpid  water  of  the  pool 
Jimmy  could  see  a  long  slim  shadow  cutting  to 
and  fro,  or  for  a  moment  lying  motionless  as 
the  fish  braced  itself  against  the  haling  strain  of 
the  silk  line.  Then  all  at  once  it  shot  up  above 
the  surface  in  a  curving  leap,  gleaming  in  the 
sunshine  and  flashing  diamonds  over  the  water. 

"Three  pounds  if  an  ounce,"  she  declared. 
"Now  he's  growing  tired — get  ready." 

Cautiously  she  drew  the  captive  nearer  and 
nearer,  until  at  last  Jimmy  was  able  to  scoop 
the  net  under  its  body  and  lift  it  out  of  the  pool. 
Surely  it  was  a  magnificent  trout,  and  as  she 
had  said  not  an  ounce  under  three  pounds. 
Leaning  her  rod  against  the  cliff  she  sat  down 
on  a  stone  to  rest. 

"He  gave  me  about  all  I  could  attend  to," 
she  remarked,  with  the  relieved  air  of  one  who 
has  fought  a  good  fight  and  won  the  victory. 

"I'm  proud  of  you,  little  sister." 

Enid  burst  into  a  peal  of  laughter.  The 
proprietary  air  with  which  he  spoke  struck  her 


as  infinitely  comic;  but  her  laughter  ended  in 
a  cry  of  dismay,  for  in  removing  the  hook  he 
had  allowed  the  trout  to  flop  out  of  the  net 
and  now  it  was  springing  upon  the  sand  in 
jumps  and  convulsive  bounds  in  an  endeavor  to 
regain  the  water.  Down  upon  it  they  both  flung 
themselves,  clutching  at  its  slippery  body,  seek- 
ing to  seize  it,  becoming  inextricably  mixed  in 
a  furious  mass,  until  finally  they  separated  to 
leave  Jimmy  resting  on  his  knees  looking  up  at 
her  in  triumph,  while  he  held  the  wriggling  fish 
by  the  gills  with  a  relentless,  blood-smeared 
hand. 

"I  would  have  followed  it  into  the  water,"  he 
said,  in  glee. 

"And  I  would  have  made  you,  if  it  had  got 
away,"  she  retorted,  straightening  her  hair, 
"for  it  would  have  been  your  fault.  Now  put 
it  in  the  basket  and  we'll  go  ahead  to  that  open 
place  yonder  under  the  trees.  It's  noon  and 
time  to  eat.  If  you're  not  hungry,  I  am  at 
any  rate.  We'll  roast  it  over  a  blaze." 

Half  an  hour  later  they  sat  by  the  embers 
of  a  brush-wood  fire,  with  the  broiled,  succu- 
lent trout  and  their  sandwiches  spread  out  on 
a  napkin-covered  table  of  rock  between  them. 
The  appetizing  odor  of  the  fish  invited  them  to 
feast,  the  river  made  music  in  their  ears,  the 


BY  THE  RIVER  155 

trees  cast  a  pleasant  shade  and  overhead  was 
the  wide,  sunlit  sky. 

"I've  fished  in  Maine,  New  Hampshire  and 
the  Alleghanies,  but  this  beats  them  all," 
James  remarked. 

Enid  picked  out  a  fragment  of  fish  with  fin- 
ger and  thumb.  "Fished  in  those  various 
places?" 

"Yes,  and  they  were  no  good,  except  good 
for  the  guide  who  held  me  up  for  twenty  dol- 
lars a  day." 

"Ah,  was  that  all  they  charged?" 

"Well,  that  was  enough,  I  think." 

"Is  that  the  way  you  spend  your  wages  in 
your  intervals  of  rest?"  she  inquired,  politely. 

Jimmy  came  to  with  a  start :  he  had  betrayed 
himself  into  a  confession  which  he  would  have 
gladly  recalled. 

"Hum,  so  to  speak." 

She  finished  her  morsel,  wiped  her  fingers 
and  calmly  asked,  "Who  is  your  real  self? 
Who  are  you?" 

"Do  you  really  wish  to  know?" 

"Of  course." 

"Then  I'll  tell  you.  I'm  your  destined  fu- 
ture husband."  And  he  waited  in  rising  ex- 
citement the  outcome  of  this  bold  shot. 

"Don't  grow  silly  now." 


156        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

He  leaped  to  his  feet  in  sudden  wrath. 
"Silly!  I'm  in  dead  earnest.  That's  what's 
the  matter  with  me,  the  matter  with  my  heart." 
He  stared  wildly  at  her.  "I'm  so  deeply  in 
love  with  you  that  I'd  let  you  cut  me  up  into 
little  pieces  for  fish-bait  and  I'd  die  with  joy. 
I  never  knew  it  before,  never  knew  it  till  to- 
day. I  tell  you,  if  you  don't  let  me  love  you 
I'll  run  mad  and  bite  somebody.  Oh,  I  could 
weep  for  love  of  you."  Whereupon  he 
plumped  down  upon  the  ground  once  more, 
seized  a  piece  of  the  unoffending  trout  and  be- 
gan savagely  to  eat  it. 

"You're    certainly    an    interesting    young 


man." 


"Bear  my  words  in  mind,  I'm  going  to 
marry  you,"  he  exclaimed,  swallowing  a  mouth- 
ful. "I  came  out  here  into  the  West  to  find 
you — I  didn't  know  it  at  the  time,  but  I  know 
now  why  I'm  marooned  here.  Just  that — be- 
cause of  you.  It  was  fate,  and  I  see  now  what 
those  old  fellows  who  wrote  Greek  plays  meant 
when  they  talked  about  fate.  They  meant 


me.'' 


She  spoke  impersonally.     "You  do  seem  for 
the  moment  to  be  in  earnest." 

"Earnest!"     He  raised  despairing  eyes  to 


BY  THE  RIVER  157 

heaven.  "I'm  in  earnest  so  much  that — that 
—Enid,  won't  you,  can't  you  love  me  just  a 
little  bit?" 

In  her  heart  she  experienced  a  flutter  of  pity, 
a  gush  of  sympathy,  a  responding  warmth. 
His  bright  black  eyes  were  fixed  upon  her  be- 
seechingly; they  held  a  light  such  as  she  had 
never  before  seen  in  them,  a  light  that  started 
a  strange  sort  of  rapture  into  being  in  her  own 
breast.  By  an  effort,  however,  she  bade  him  sit 
down. 

"Your  fish  will  grow  cold  and  spoiled,"  was 
the  only  thing  she  could  think  of,  in  response 
to  his  impassioned  plea. 

"What  do  I  care,  for  fish?    It's  you  I  want." 

"Do  you  think  I  could  love  a  man  who  won't 
tell  me  his  real  name  and  who  makes  a  mys- 
tery of  his  past?" 

"You  wouldn't  believe  me  if  I  did  tell  you — 
and  besides  I  took  a  vow  to  keep  my  name  se- 
cret till  I  had  finished  my  work.  What  does 
the  name  matter?"  he  cried  impetuously. 

Enid  had  collected  herself. 

"When  a  girl  is  invited  into  marriage,  she 
rather  desires  to  know  what  name  she  will  be 
required  to  bear  the  rest  of  her  life — try  a  sand- 
wich." 


158        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

"Well,  I've  determined  to  marry  you,  name 
or  no  name." 

"I  don't  expect  to  marry  for  many,  many 
years,  and  at  the  present  time  I  don't  love  any- 
body. Why  should  I?"  She  flung  the  ques- 
tion with  a  bright,  smiling  look. 

Jimmy  finished  the  sandwich  on  which  he 
was  engaged. 

"I  never  thought  to  propose  in  the  middle 
of  a  meal,"  said  he.  "Enid,  you  haven't  a 
heart." 

For  a  time  she  vouchsafed  no  reply,  only  re- 
garding him  closely.  But  her  attention  was  in 
fact  turned  inward  upon  the  peculiar  singing 
in  her  bosom,  with  a  desire  to  know  if  the  music 
was  in  any  way  in  response  to  the  impetuous 
declaration  which  had  just  been  made  by  the 
young  man  across  the  stone  from  her.  Why 
was  she  happy  now?  Why  was  she  always 
happy  when  with  him?  Why  did  she  love  to 
look  on  his  features,  to  hear  his  voice,  have  him 
near? 

"I  don't  think  I  could  marry  you,"  she  said. 

"If  you — "  he  stopped  abruptly,  consider- 
ing. 

For  once  it  seemed  as  if  he  were  opposed  by 
an  unsurmountable  obstacle;  he  looked  down 


BY  THE  RIVER  159 

the  years  to  come  and  saw  himself  the  figure  of 
a  lonely  tragedy;  already  it  seemed  as  if  he 
had  loved  her  a  long  time,  almost  forever. 
Moreover,  she  did  not  appear  to  appreciate  his 
passion — she  had  begun  to  fold  up  the  nap- 
kins. He  helped  himself  to  one  of  the  two  re- 
maining sandwiches,  bit  into  and  sorrowfully 
masticated  the  bite.  Then  he  began  to  reflect 
upon  the  advisability  of  telling  her  his  real 
identity,  yet  what  was  to  be  gained  by  that? 
If  she  did  not  love  him  as  Hemple,  she  would 
not  love  him  as  Dukane.  He  heaved  a  pro- 
found sigh.  And  to  remain  in  the  valley 
knowing  he  had  no  hope  would  be  torture. 
Let  Corbetson  continue  to  graft  in  the  build- 
ing of  the  dam — let  him  go  scot-free — he, 
Jimmy  Dukane,  cared  not. 

"Well,  I  shall  go  away,  then,"  he  stated,  at 
last. 

"Go  away!" 

"Yes." 

"But  you  mustn't  do  that,"  she  hastened  to 
say,  with  an  inexpressible  flutter  of  apprehen- 
sion. 

"No  use  in  staying  if  you  don't  love  me." 

"If  you  went,  I'd  know  you'd  been  driven 
away  by  me." 


160        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

"Not  at  all." 

She  carefully  wrapped  up  the  napkins.  A 
tiny  wrinkle  appeared  between  her  brows. 

"You  must  promise  not  to  go  until  you 
have  a  real  reason  for  doing  so." 

"If  I  haven't  a  good  one  now,  I'll  never  have 
it." 

"That's  no  reason  at  all.  Will  you  prom- 
ise?" 

Jimmy,  however,  would  not  commit  himself 
to  any  such  rash  agreement.  The  prospect 
held  out  of  a  future  near  her  and  yet  apart 
from  her  was  more  than  he  cared  to  accept; 
better  be  utterly  out  of  her  presence.  It  was 
thus  while  he  believed  his  fortunes  at  their 
lowest  ebb  that  in  reality  they  were  rising,  as 
with  his  announcement  of  a  possible  departure 
he  had  created  in  her  mind  a  possibility  of  loss. 

Fishing  down  the  stream  on  their  way  home- 
ward, and  fishing  less  with  an  eye  to  a  full  creel 
than  as  a  mere  form  of  keeping  up  the  pre- 
tense of  the  excursion,  conversation  lagged 
while  each  engaged  in  introspection.  So  far 
as  Enid  was  concerned  she  knew  by  this  time 
that  she  was  exceedingly  fond  of  him,  but  as 
for  really  loving  him — that  was  a  vastly  differ- 
ent .matter.  He  was  fishing  ahead  and  pres- 


BY  THE  RIVER  161 

ently  she  became  so  absorbed  in  contemplation 
of  her  loving  any  man  that  she  remained  appar- 
ently rooted  in  one  spot,  oblivious  of  the  fact 
that  the  end  of  her  pole  trailed  in  the  water,  a 
full  danger-signal  to  any  trout  which  lurked  in 
the  pool.  And  always  her  thoughts  focused 
in  the  end  upon  the  personality  of  the  youth, 
his  sudden  appearance  in  Silver  Peak  Basin, 
his  rescue  of  her  at  the  dam,  his  coming  to  her 
house,  his  obvious  superiority  to  his  present  sta- 
tion, his  friendship  and  kindness  for  the 
cripple,  his  mystery,  his  danger  at  the  hands 
of  the  camp  bully,  and  now  his  present  con- 
fession of  love.  At  last  she  was  aroused  by 
his  hallooing  for  her.  When  she  joined  him, 
he  stated  that  he  feared  she  had  fallen  into 
the  river. 

"I  found  a  good  pool,"  was  her  brief  an- 
swer. 

"And  where  are  the  fish?" 

"They  didn't  bite." 

"Well,  I  wouldn't  call  that  a  good  pool." 

Below  them  they  could  see  the  outspread 
basin,  the  ranch,  the  construction  works  at  the 
mouth  of  the  gorge  and  distinguish  faint  jets 
of  steam  escaping  from  the  power  house.  All 
the  valley  basked  in  afternoon  sunshine,  under 


162        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

which  the  river  glistened  at  intervals  in  plates 
of  silver. 

"You  mustn't  go  away,"  she  said. 

"That's  kind,  but  you'll  not  be  lonesome, 
with  Leschelles  and  Satterfield  and  Corbetson. 
The  doctor  too  is  always  glad  to  fill  in." 

"But  I  should  miss  you." 

"Ah,  that's  something.  Look  here,  if  I  stay 
I'd  be  tempted  some  fine  day  to  drive  up  to 
your  house  with  my  six-horse  outfit  and  kid- 
nap you.  It  wouldn't  be  exactly  as  romantic 
as  riding  in  an  old-fashioned  English  stage, 
but  it  would  do.  You'd  have  to  be  responsible 
for  what  happened." 

Enid  laughed  at  the  picture  he  drew. 

"Father  and  the  boys  would  be  after  us 
shooting  at  every  jump." 

"So  much  the  better,  it  would  make  it  vivid." 
The  contemplation  of  happiness,  even  under 
such  difficulties,  lighted  Dukane's  face  with  a 
beatific  smile.  "I  will  do  it — I  will  do  it! 
They  could  never  catch  us  when  I  started  pour- 
ing the  whip  into  my  steeds — and  we'd  have  a 
good  start.  Then  we  could  be  married  at  Mel- 
ton, then  go  round  the  world  on  a  wedding 
trip,  then  live  in  New  York  and — "  Her  clear 
laughter  interrupted  his  dream  and  brought 


BY  THE  RIVER  163 

him  back  to  reality.  "I'm  in  earnest,"  he  con- 
tinued. "If  I  stay — and  now  I  think  I  shall— 
I'll  do  something  desperate  to  win  you." 

"That  will  be  exciting,  and  I  sometimes  long 
for  excitement." 

"Oh,  if  you  knew  how  I  love  you!"  he  ex- 
claimed, with  a  fresh  burst  of  sentiment,  wav- 
ing his  rod  wildly  about. 

The  next  five  minutes  were  occupied  by  him 
in  attempting  to  untangle  the  line  from  the 
limbs  of  a  sapling  in  which  it  had  become 
wrapped,  until  at  last  he  jerked  it  furiously 
loose. 

"This  does  not  seem  to  be  your  lucky  day," 
Enid  remarked. 

"Lucky,  I  should  say  not!  I've  been  living 
a  dog's  life  under  an  unlucky  star  ever  since 
the  governor  sent  me  that  telegram  in — "  Ab- 
ruptly he  broke  off,  conscious  that  he  was 
betraying  himself,  then  finished  lamely,  "I 
think  the  goblins  are  on  my  trail.  They'll  be 
jumping  up  and  down  on  me  nights  pretty 
soon  to  keep  me  awake.  I'm  through  with 
fishing  for  to-day." 

"And  I  have  had  enough  too.  Let  us  start 
home." 

As  they  followed  a  path  that  descended  the 


THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

river,  she  questioned  him  regarding  his  feud 
with  the  camp  bully,  Lantry.  But  of  this  he 
would  not  speak:  natural  pride  and  principle 
that  a  man's  fight  with  men  should  be  main- 
tained as  a  personal  affair,  to  be  neither  dis- 
closed to  nor  discussed  with  those  of  the  other 
sex, — a  rule  unconsciously  absorbed  from  that 
stern  fighter,  Dukane  senior — caused  him  to 
refuse  all  of  her  inquiries  and  evade  her  leads 
upon  the  subject.  Lantry  and  he  did  not 
agree,  was  his  explanation,  that  was  the  whole 
of  the  matter.  And  though  highly  dissatisfied 
and  excited  to  a  higher  point  of  curiosity  than 
ever,  she  needs  must  be  content.  Of  the  at- 
tack and  counter-attack  which  had  been  made 
between  them  the  previous  night,  and  of  the 
acute  stage  to  which  their  hostility  had  in  con- 
sequence been  developed,  she  knew  nothing, 
or  she  would  have  experienced  a  new  perturba- 
tion in  Dukane's  behalf. 

This  was  not  long  delayed.  When  they 
reached  the  ranch  house  they  found  the  little 
doctor  sitting  upon  the  veranda  with  Mr.  Crof- 
ton,  and  the  four  of  them  chatted  for  a  time 
upon  general  topics. 

Presently  Mr.  Crofton  said: 

"The  doctor  tells  me  that  you  and  that  fel- 


BY  THE  RIVER  165 

low  Lantry  had  a  bad  mix-up  last  night,  and 
that  he's  out  to  capture  your  scalp,  Jim.  Bet- 
ter go  easy  around  him." 

"All  he  has  to  do  to  have  peace  is  to  leave 
Spencer  and  me  alone,"  Jimmy  replied. 

The  doctor  hitched  about  with  hands  on 
knees. 

"You  young  fellows  certainly  came  back  at 
him  with  a  vengeance.  Had  to  take  half  a 
dozen  stitches  in  one  chap's  head  and  he  looked 
as  if  he'd  been  run  through  the  stone  crusher — 
black-and-blue  all  over.  There's  a  lot  of  tough 
trouble  ahead  of  you,  I'm  afraid,  my  boy — wish 
you  were  well  out  of *it,  or  that  Lantry  would 
quit  camp." 

"What  has  Mr.  Hemple  been  doing  this 
time?"  Enid  demanded. 

The  doctor  chuckled,  eying  Dukane. 

"That  would  be  telling  secrets  out  of  school." 

Enid  seated  herself  and  began  fanning  reso- 
lutely. She  looked  from  one  to  another  of 
the  men,  who  showed  no  disposition  to  convey 
the  information  requested. 

"You  may  as  well  tell  me,  Doctor,  for  I  in- 
tend to  find  out,"  she  stated.  "If  you  won't, 
then  father  will  have  to,  so  I'll  learn  it  in  any 
case." 


166        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

"Hemple  could  probably  give  JTOU  the  facts 
better  than  I — also  the  atmosphere.  But  I'll 
go  ahead;  I  can't  refuse  you  anything  you  ask, 
as  you  know,  and  so  I'm  in  your  power.  Hem- 
pie's  scowling  now.  Of  course  I'll  catch  it 
from  him  going  home — he's  a  modest  young 
man  in  some  ways,  though  not  many.  It 
seems  that  Lantry  and  two  friends  met  James 
here  last  night  and  knocked  him  down  as  a 
form  of  amusement,  but  James  was  not  sub- 
dued. Far  from  it !  He  called  his  clan  and  in 
their  turn  they  fell  on  poor  Lantry  and  the 
other  pair  and  beat  them  up  in  worse  shape 
than  could  a  squad  of  New  York  policemen. 
They're  so  sore  physically  and  mentally 
to-day  that  they  can't  work  and  can  only 
plot  revenge.  I'd  say  that  Jimmy  has 
opened  up  a  lead  for  the  real  celebration  of 
his  life.  Wisdom  should  dictate  an  orderly 
retreat." 

"Not  me,"  Jimmy  replied,  promptly. 

"But  if  you're  in  danger!"  Enid  exclaimed. 

"I've  nothing  to  live  for  in  any  case/'  he 
retorted,  with  significance.  "I'll  fight  Lantry 
to  a  finish,  then  the  company  can  bury  me  in  a 
cement  sack.  Thus  I  would  make  an  appro- 
priate end." 


BY  THE  RIVER  167 

"I'll  offer  my  services  to  sew  you  up,"  the 
doctor  offered. 

"How  dare  you  talk  so!"  Enid  said,  with  a 
rising  flush.  "That's  horrible.  I  think  some- 
thing should  be  done  to  stop  it." 

"I  don't  want  it  stopped,"  Jimmy  an- 
nounced. 

"Then  you  deserve  to  be  killed,"  was  her 
angry  reply. 

"Oh,  Lantry's  a  coward  at  bottom,"  the 
youth  said,  in  lofty  tones. 

Although  the  subject  was  presently  changed 
her  anxious  thoughts  continued  to  dwell  upon 
it,  inventing  all  sorts  of  terrible  agonies  and 
tortures  which  the  gorgon  Lantry  might  inflict 
upon  the  body  of  his  victim.  The  boy  loved 
her;  even  if  she  did  not  love  him  she  neverthe- 
less now  had  an  intimate  responsibility  in  him 
because  of  that  love,  a  personal  pledge  for  his 
welfare.  What  did  that  man  Corbetson  mean 
by  permitting  such  outrageous  conduct  on  the 
part  of  Lantry?  Why,  indeed,  did  he  keep 
him  as  a  workman?  Perhaps  she  should  have 
been  gentler  with  Hemple  when  he  told  her  of 
his  love.  She  ran  over  in  memory  all  the  cir- 
cumstances of  the  day,  all  of  his  words,  recalled 
his  every  look,  tone  and  gesture ;  and  contrast- 


168        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

ing  them  with  her  own  saw  herself  in  a  cold  and 
unsympathetic  light.  She  had  in  truth  been 
over-cold. 

"And  this  newspaper  man  states  that  the 
son  has  vanished  utterly,"  the  doctor  was  say- 
ing. "  He  questioned  everybody  in  camp,  my- 
self among  them.  During  the  afternoon  he 
spent  an  hour  with  me.  The  strange  part  of 
the  story  is  that  this  young  Dukane,  who  by  all 
accounts  was  a  high-flier  and  worthless  chap, 
disappeared  over  yonder  at  Melton — was  in 
fact  coming  to  inspect  the  dam.  He  never 
showed  up,  just  dropped  out  of  sight — sank 
into  the  ground."  / 

Jimmy  stirred  uneasily. 

"These  rich  men's  sons  are  never  any  good," 
said  he. 

"Well,  old  man  Dukane's  wasn't,  that  seems 
pretty  well  certified  to.  The  reporter  intends 
to  hang  round  a  day  or  two,  says  he  can  work 
up  an  article  on  the  construction  of  the  dam 
even  if  he  can't  make  a  story  about  Dukane's 


son." 


Mr.  Crofton  lighted  a  fresh  cigar  and  cast 
a  satisfied  look  at  his  daughter. 

"Boys  make  a  heap  of  trouble  sometimes. 
Now  with  a  girl  it's  different;  all  that  you  have 


BY  THE  RIVER  169 

to  do  is  to  let  them  have  their  way  and  there  is 
never  any  disagreement." 

"What  a  thing  to  say!"  she  rejoined,  then, 
"Must  you  go,  gentlemen?"  For  the  doctor 
and  Jimmy  had  risen.  "I  hope  no  sounds  of 
battle  from  camp  will  keep  father  and  me 
awake  to-night." 

She  spoke  gaily,  but  as  she  addressed  her 
good-nights  to  them  she  found  occasion  to  add 
a  word  to  her  companion  of  the  afternoon. 

"Take  care  of  yourself,  Jimmy,"  she  said 
softly,  "I  want  you  to." 


* 


CHAPTER  VIII 

UNDER  THE  CHIEF'S  THUMB 

matter  which  had  lain  troublesomely 
on  Enid's  mind  came  to  the  surface  the 
day  after  the  fishing  excursion  and  gave  a 
push  to  affairs  to  a  degree  that  resulted  in 
young  Dukane  being  advanced  a  consider- 
able space  towards  his  object  of  solving  the 
dam  mystery.  Indeed,  coming  at  the  time 
it  did  when  his  whole  course  seemed  hope- 
lessly blocked,  and  in  the  manner  in  which 
it  did  as  a  consequence  of  Corbetson's  own 
initiative,  one  might  have  concluded  that  there 
was  an  unseen  and  powerful  intelligence  at 
work  in  his  behalf.  To  go  back  to  the  girl's 
perturbation,  it  had  to  do  with  the  circumstance 
of  Jimmy's  veiled  warfare  with  Lantry,  the 
bunk-house  bully ;  the  information  given  her  by 
the  cowboys  concerning  the  feud  persisted  in 
her  mind.  Therefore  it  wal  only  natural  that 
it  should  at  last  acquire  subsw|^Fin  the  form 
of  speech. 

no 


UNDER  THE  CHIEF'S  THUMB       171 


"There  are  some  pmty  rough  specimens 
of  men  in  camp,  I  suppose,"  sfe*said  reflect- 
ively, to  the  chief  engineer  when  he  was  call- 
ing. / 

"Oh,  to  be  sure/  Miss  Crofton,  they  drift  to 
a  project  like  this." 

"Some  of  the  boys  here  on  the  ranch  were 
saying  that  a  fellow  by  the  name  of  Lantry, 
one  of  the  worst,  created  a  good  deal  of  trouble, 
fighting  and  quarreling  and  bullying  his  bunk- 
house  mates.  Isn't  there  any  way  to  get  rid 
of  such  a  brute?" 

"One  must  look  at  it  in  the  right  way — or 
rather  not  look  at  it  at  all,  for  they  are  all 
pretty  much  brute  at  bottom.  They  fight  out 
their  troubles  and  seem  to  abide  by  the  trial  of 
strength.  During  working-hours  if  they  at- 
tend to  their  jobs  and  earn  their  pay,  that's  all 
we  ask;  after  hours  they're  their  own  masters 
and  everyone  of  them  would  resent  interference 
wjrfi  their  liberty,  even  though  it  be  a  quarrel- 
ftome  liberty." 

"But  it  isn't  right  that  a  bully  like  that  man 
try  should  be  allowed  to  torment  a  cripple 
Hop  Spencer,  a  harmless  fellow, — and  he 
would  be  doing  it  all  the  time  if  it  wasn't  that 
Afift  *Hemple  defended  the  latter.  Now  Lan- 


178       THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

try  threatens,  so  the  boys  here  say,  to  injure 
them  both." 

"What  do  you  want  me  to  do?"  Corbetson 
inquired,  frowning,  secretly  vexed. 

"Well,  I'd  think  an  order  from  you 
would  make  the  rougher  ones  respect  others' 
rights." 

"Hemple  seems,  by  all  accounts,  to  go  half 
way  in  the  quarrels — still  if  you  ask  me,  Miss 
Crofton,  I'll  do  everything  in  my  power  to  ac- 
complish what  you  wish." 

"Mr.  Hemple  doesn't  matter,"  she  stated, 
with  an  assumed  indifference,  "it's  that  poor 
club-footed  chap." 

But  Corbetson's  suspicious  mind  was  not 
easily  deceived;  he  read  her  interest  in  the  ir- 
repressible Hemple,  distorted  it,  magnified  it, 
until  his  spirit  gnawed  at  itself  in  a  fever. 
What  she  could  see  in  the  young  laborer  to 
interest  her  was  beyond  his  imagining;  every 
characteristic  of  the  boy,  his  looks,  his  im- 
pudent manner,  his  incorrigible  insubordina- 
tion, his  brazen  assurance,  his  conceited  speech, 
rasped  his  nerves  and  set  his  teeth  on  edge; 
every  visit  the  youth  made  to  the  Crofton  ranft 
he  considered  an  intrusion  and  every  bright 
look  elicited  from  the  girl's  eyes  one  robbed 


UNDER  THE  CHIEF'S  THUMB       173 

from  himself.  But  he  was  too  cunning  to  ex- 
hibit his  real  feelings  for  her  inspection. 

"I'll  do  my  best  to  place  the  cripple  and 
Hemple  where  Lantry  cannot  interfere  with 
them,"  he  said,  in  conclusion. 

It  was  therefore  with  secret  satisfaction  that 
he  hit  upon  a  plan  which  would  at  once  remove 
his  unworthy  rival  from  the  field  and  at  the 
same  time  give  him,  Corbetson,  the  appearance 
of  performing  a  friendly  act.  Calling  Dukane 
to  his  office  next  morning  he  announced  that 
he  appointed  him  to  the  position  of  assistant- 
storekeeper;  Pennick's  health  was  bad  and  a 
helper  was  necessary,  while  the  berth  carried 
with  it  an  increased  salary,  namely  eighty-five 
dollars. 

Jimmy  regarded  him  from  under  question- 
ing brows.  That  the  chief  did  not  like  him  had 
been  only  too  evident  since  the  first  day  he  set 
foot  in  camp;  therefore  this  philanthropy  was 
only  on  the  surface;  therefore  Corbetson  by 
this  move  imagined  something  to  be  gained. 
To  Jimmy's  disadvantage  of  course  I  Though 
he  was  certain  that  such  was  the  case  he  could 
not  at  once  lay  a  finger  upon  the  man's  motive; 
it  would  no  doubt  transpire  unpleasantly  in  the 
near  future.  As  for  the  storekeeper,  that  in- 


174-        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

dividual's  health  was  undoubtedly  bad ;  Jimmy 
had  observed  this  very  hour  in  passing  to  the 
office  that  Pennick  who  sat  in  a  chair  in  the  door 
was  exceedingly  "jumpy"  from  steady  pota- 
tions out  of  a  private  jug  which  he  kept. 

"Well,  how  about  it?"  Corbetson  inquired, 
interrupting  his  speculations. 

"I'll  take  the  job." 

"Very  well,  begin  at  once.  That  is  all,  Mr. 
Hemple." 

"Thank  you,  chief." 

A  flash  of  recognition  of  the  splendid  op- 
portunities which  would  be  afforded  for  private 
investigation  in  this  new  position  prompted 
him  to  accept.  The  finer  points  of  loyalty  and 
honor  here  concerned  did  not  weaken  his  firm 
purpose  to  search  out  the  secret  of  the  cement ; 
had  they  been  suggested  by  a  third  person  he 
would  have  looked  at  the  man  in  astonishment. 
Corbetson  was  grafting  somewhere;  that  was 
sufficient  reason  for  making  every  effort  to  un- 
mask the  chief  and  to  seize  every  advantage. 
Certainly,  he  reflected  as  he  turned  into  the 
store,  he  could  now  make  headway — "get  ac- 
tion." 

Half  an  Hour  later  he  was  displaying  a 
pair  of  overalls  to  a  prospective  purchaser 


UNDER  THE  CHIEF'S  THUMB       175 

while  his  superior  and  new  master  drowsed  in 
a  chair. 

"Those  are  unquestionably  the  finest  trousers 
on  the  market,"  Hemple  remarked,  head  on 
one  side,  extended  hands  exhibiting  the  humble 
garment.  "They  are  cut  in  the  latest  London 
fashion,  are  guaranteed  never  to  wear  out  or 
lose  the  crease  and  are,  my  noble  patron,  the 
acme  of  elegance." 

"Cut  out  the  funny  business  and  wrap  'em 
up,"  the  buyer  growled. 

Dukane  received  the  price,  handed  over  the 
package  and  watched  the  other  depart.  Then 
he  helped  himself  to  a  cigar  out  of  the  show- 
case and  pondered  certain  facts  which  he  had 
already  discovered  in  his  new  situation. 

In  reality  these  were  rather  clues  than  facts ; 
and  a  certain  lively  suspicion  had  taken  shape 
in  his  mind  that  it  was  not  Dukane  and  Com- 
pany who  were  responsible  for  the  high  prices 
charged  the  workmen  for  merchandise,  but  the 
storekeeper  and  behind  him  Corbetson.  The 
store  did  a  pretty  heavy  volume  of  business, 
there  was  no  doubt  of  that.  What  had  aroused 
first  his  attention,  then  his  doubt  of  the  honesty 
of  the  storekeeper,  was  a  singular  system  of 
book-keeping  being  practiced  in  the  establish- 


176        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

ment.  On  a  desk  at  the  rear  of  the  store  he 
had  seen  two  ledgers  lying  side  by  side  open  at 
the  same  page  in  each ;  dates  and  entries  of  one 
William  Kenner's  account  ran  identical  in  each 
book,  but  the  prices  charged  for  the  articles 
were  wholly  at  variance ;  and  a  swift  compari- 
son on  his  part  showed  that  one  book  carried 
item  by  item  a  hundred  per  cent  increase.  He 
turned  to  his  own  account  in  the  books;  the 
same  fact  held  true.  One  did  not  represent 
cost  to  the  company,  for  costs  were  not  kept 
in  that  fashion.  What  therefore  did  it  mean? 
At  the  first  opportunity  he  resolved  to  ransack 
the  proprietor's  letter  files  for  statements  of 
the  business,  for  reports,  for  anything  which 
would  throw  light  on  the  subject.  This  must 
be  done  secretly,  silently  and  without  arousing 
suspicion ;  and  the  best  means  of  doing  this  was 
what  he  revolved  in  his  mind  as  he  sat  upon  the 
counter  smoking  and  swinging  his  legs. 

His  meditations  were  interrupted  by  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  newspaper  correspondent,  the 
man  of  Melton  acquaintance,  who  entered  the 
door,  pausing  a  moment  to  survey  the  store- 
keeper who  now  slept  stertorously  with  head 
on  one  side  and  jaw  fallen,  then  advanced  to 
the  new  clerk. 


UNDER  THE  CHIEF'S  THUMB       177 

"How  goes  the  search?"  Jimmy  inquired 
amiably,  offering  the  man  a  cigar. 

The  correspondent  eyed  both  Dukane  and 
the  cigar  with  questioning  doubt,  though  finally 
accepting  the  weed  and  lighting  it.  He  seated 
himself  on  a  chair  face  to  face  with  the  youth. 

"You  are  a  young  devil,"  he  said.  "First 
you  send  me  into  a  scrape  over  at  the  town  on 
the  railroad,  then  you  no  more  than  reach  here 
when  you  start  an  insurrection  and  beat  up 
three  workmen  with  a  gang  you've  organized, 
and  now  you  sit  here  as  innocent  as  if  you  knew 
nothing  but  how  to  wrap  up  packages  of  tea. 
What  are  you  going  to  start  next?'* 

"I  am  an  opportunist :  I  follow  no  policy  in 
my  campaign." 

"A  fellow  who  stirs  up  deviltry  never  does." 

"All  right,  let  it  go  at  that,"  Jimmy  said. 
"What  about  the  missing  heir  you're  tracking 
down?  Found  his  dead^  body  yet?" 

"No — and  after  my  experiences  in  that  hotel 
I  want  no  more  suggestions  from  you  where  to 
look  for  it." 

"I've  a  new  theory  that — " 

"Xever  mind,  I  don't  want  it.  The  young 
fellow  never  came  here,  that's  settled  in  my  own 
mind.  He  was  probably  drunk  the  night  he 


178        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

got  off  the  train — if  he  did  get  off — and  he 
just  disappeared  like  a  thousand  other  men. 
Some  day  his  bones  will  turn  up  and  they  will 
be  identified  as  his  by  the  gold  in  his  teeth,  or 
a  collar-button,  or  some  such  nonsense."  And 
so  saying  he  thrust  his  hands  into  his  trousers' 
pockets,  straightened  his  legs  and  gazed  pes- 
simistically at  the  floor. 

"If  you  want  a  body  for  purposes  of  identi- 
fication, I'll  go  out  and  kill  someone,"  Jimmy 
offered,  obligingly. 

"A  little  more  and  you'd  have  done  it  last 
night.  The  big  fellow  is  pretty  badly  bruised 
— and  he's  mixing  war  medicine." 

"Humph,"  said  Dukane,  scratching  his  cheek 
thoughtfully. 

All  the  indications  pointed  to  a  brewing 
storm  in  the  Lantry  quarter.  First,  the  Doc- 
tor had  given  him  warning,  now  the  reporter, 
while  the  general  a^rnosphere  of  the  camp 
seemed  surcharged  with  excitement  as  a  result 
of  the  encounter.  Plenty  of  men  there  were 
who  had  slapped  him  on  the  back  with  hearty 
commendation  for  his  treatment  of  the  ruffian, 
men  who  themselves  had  suffered  under  Lan- 
try's  petty  tyranny  and  who  in  consequence 
hated  him,  but  whether  their  hatred  would  go 


UNDER  THE  CHIEF'S  THUMB       179 

further  than  words  he  doubted.  He  must 
trust  to  his  own  nimble  wits  and  to  the  loyalty 
of  the  few  who  had  stood  by  him.  Lantry 
would  brood  wrathfully  until  at  last  he  thought 
to  take  Dukane  unawares,  when  he  should  be 
able  to  mete  out  punishment  to  his  brutal 
heart's  satisfaction.  The  next  battle  would  be 
more  serious. 

"Well,  I  think  I'll  walk  over  to  Tunneltown 
and  then  to  the  canal  camp,"  the  correspondent 
stated,  yawning;  "might  run  across  some  trace 
of  young  Dukane  there,  but  it's  not  likely.  I 
can  get  back  here  by  night.  Two  or  three  days 
here  will  give  me  stuff  for  a  story  on  the  irriga- 
tion project." 

"If  there's  anything  the  chief  can't  tell  you, 
come  to  me." 

"You're  the  real  thing,  I  know,"  was  the  sar- 
donic answer. 

"Sure,  come  around  any  time." 

"When  that  big  scrapper  finishes  you,  you 
won't  be  so  swelled  on  yourself.  Here's  hop- 
ing he  does  it  soon,  for  you're  an  insufferable 
cub  at  present." 

"Try  and  be  on  hand  when  it  happens," 
Jimmy  called  after  him,  genially. 

This  first  day  in  the  store  was,  as  it  turned 


180        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

out,  destined  to  be  an  epochal  one  in  the  young 
man's  affairs ;  for  in  addition  to  the  correspond- 
ent he  had  another  and  more  inspiring  visitor. 
He  was  an  ordinary  gentleman,  a  man  of  that 
smooth-faced,  middle-sized,  mild,  unobtrusive 
type  who,  because  of  modesty  of  person  and 
dress,  is  able  to  move  among  any  order  of 
men  in  which  its  members  chance  to  find  them- 
selves and  attract  no  attention — a  chameleon- 
like  quality  of  value  upon  occasion.  At  pres- 
ent the  man  would  have  been  taken  to  be  a 
workman  of  the  better  class,  but  still  a  work- 
man; and  such  indeed  Dukane  judged  him  to 
be,  since  he  wore  a  working  shirt,  dusty  felt  hat 
and  carried  his  coat  upon  his  arm. 

"Let  me  look  at  a  pair  of  boots,"  he  said, 
after  a  casual  glance  towards  the  rear  where 
the  leather  stock  was  stored. 

Jimmy  led  him  thither  and  displayed  several 
pair  carelessly. 

"Is  your  name  Hemple?"  the  man  asked, 
squinting  at  a  boot,  which  he  held  up  to  the 
light. 

"Yes,  you've  got  it." 

The  man  handed  him  a  paper  and  continued 
his  examination  with  the  air  of  a  sober,  indus- 
trious toiler  who  is  anxious  to  get  his  money's 


UNDER  THE  CHIEF'S  THUMB       181 

worth.  The  sheet  of  paper  revealed  itself  to 
the  youth  as  none  other  than  the  letter  which 
he  had  dispatched  to  the  Corson  Cement  Com- 
pany; with  a  memorandum  from  the  manager 
in  reply  upon  the  margin  stating  that  the 
bearer  had  been  dispatched  as  requested  and 
was  at  the  informant's  service,  was  in  fact  the 
company's  assistant  manager.  Jimmy  folded 
the  letter  and  placed  it  in  his  bosom  with  a  sud- 
den feeling  of  puffed-upness :  recognition  was 
at  last  coming  his  way.  He  glanced  at  the 
man,  but  the  latter  continued  to  inspect  the 
boot,  turning  it  over  and  around  as  if  genuinely 
interested. 

"Come  with  me,"  the  youth  said,  and  led  the 
visitor  out  the  rear  door.  "Go  up  the  river 
until  you  come  to  a  log  in  a  clump  of  trees — 
about  half  a  mile.  We  mustn't  be  seen  to- 
gether. I'll  join  you  presently." 

The  man  considered  a  moment,  felt  of  his 
pockets. 

"I'm  out  of  cigars,"  said  he. 

"I'll  bring  them,"  Jimmy  cried,  impatient  at 
the  fellow's  calm  matter-of-factness,  now  that 
an  exciting  moment  had  arrived. 

For  the  youth's  pulses  were  bounding,  his 
mind  was  on  fire,  his  soul  athirst  with  the  vista 


182        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

of  possibilities  which  had  been  all  at  once 
opened  up  by  this  unexpected  arrival  of  the 
cement  company's  representative.  Truth  to 
tell  Dukane  had  been  too  busy  of  late  to  re- 
member this  particular  coil  which  he  had  cast 
out  beyond  the  horizon. 

Half  an  hour  later,  after  informing  his 
drowsing  employer  of  his  intended  absence,  he 
had  scooted  out  the  same  door  through  which 
he  had  led  the  stranger,  had  followed  to  the  ap- 
pointed spot.  They  sat  side  by  side  on  the  log. 

"It's  an  extraordinary  condition  you  make," 
the  man  was  saying. 

"May  sound  like  it,  but  I  must  have  your 
promise  that  nothing  is  to  be  said  of  what  you 
find  out  and  nothing  done,  until  I  give  the 
word." 

The  man  scrutinized  him. 

"I  don't  know  yet  but  what  the  whole  matter 
will  turn  out  to  be  a  mare's  nest." 

Jimmy  resolved  upon  a  master-stroke,  a 
stroke  that  would  absolutely  seal  the  other's 
lips. 

"You've  heard  of  young  Dukane?"  he  asked. 

"Who  hasn't?  the  papers  have  been  full  of 
his  disappearance." 

"Well,  I'm  him,"  was  the  calm  rejoinder. 


UNDER  THE  CHIEF'S  THUMB       183 

"You!" 

"Sure,  me.     I'm  investigating  on  the  quiet." 

"But  your  father's  company — your  father? 
All  this  outcry?" 

"That's  the  joke  of  it.  The  governor  sent 
me  here  to  make  a  report,  thought  I  was  no 
good.  I  happened  to  be  robbed  and  my  clothes 
stolen  and  I  was  hauled  over  here  as  a  bum  to 
work,  under  the  name  of  Hemple.  First  thing 
I  saw  some  rotten  work  with  the  cement,  so  I 
decided  to  wear  the  alias  and  investigate  in  fact. 
It's  fine,  wouldn't  have  missed  it  for  a  pot  of 
money!  That's  why  I  say  you've  got  to  go  by 
my  orders." 

The  mail  looked  at  the  end  of  his  cigar, 
"How  do  I  know  you're  telling  the  truth?" 

"Do  you  want  to  know  whether  your  Com- 
pany's being  defrauded  or  do  you  not !"  Jimmy 
exclaimed  in  exasperation.  "You  ought  to  be 
willing  to  take  a  sporting  chance." 

"I've  nothing  to  lose,  that's  a  fact.  All 
right,  son,  I  go  under  your  orders.  You  want 
to  open  father's  eyes,  I  see." 

Dukane  leaped  to  his  feet  in  excitement  as 
the  prospect  of  his  stern  parent  coming  to  him 
full  of  remorse  for  past  harsh  measures  ex- 
panded rosily  in  his  mind. 


184        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

"I  certainly  do — I  certainly  do !  I  want  him 
to  see  me  standing  on  top  of  the  dam,  with  this 
crooked  chief  in  chains  at  my  feet." 

A  smile  flickered  across  the  other's  face  at 
this  Romanesque  picture. 

"You're  the  lost  child,  I  guess.  That  sort 
of  talk  fits  in  with  the  general  description  of 
young  Dukane." 

"Bah!  don't  believe  it.  The  newspapers 
tried  to  make  me  out  half  a  fool,  half  a  tough — 
I  wasn't  either,  though  it's  a  fact  I  used  to  like 
to  get  action  on  my  money.  And  I  do  yet. 
But  here  are  the  facts  about  the  cement  mys- 
tery." 

Under  the  pledge  of  secrecy  which  he  be- 
stowed anew  he  related  the  circumstance  of  the 
exchange  of  cement  from  one  set  of  sacks  to 
the  other  as  he  had  witnessed  the  transfer  dur- 
ing his  first  day  in  Melton,  and  as  it  had  no 
doubt  regularly  occurred  often  since.  More- 
over he  communicated  his  serious  suspicions  re- 
garding the  fraudulent  dam  construction. 

"No  honest  dam  is  built  in  such  fashion,"  the 
man  stated,  after  listening  attentively.  "I'll 
have  a  look  at  it.  How  can  it  escape  the  in- 
spector? Or  is  he  crooked  too?" 

"He  hasn't  put  in  an  appearance  yet — but 


stop !  I  remember  now  that  a  man  did  come, 
who  made  the  rounds  for  a  day  or  two — that 
was  when  I  was  shoveling  at  the  mixer.  There 
was  a  thin  layer  of  concrete  rilled  in  over  the 
rubble  to  give  it  the  appearance  of  solidity;." 

"And  the  assistant  engineers?" 

"They're  straight,  straight  as  strings.  But 
they  believe  they're  working  under  approved 
plans,  though  they  know  the  plans  to  be  bad. 
That's  all  in  the  world  that  keeps  them  here, 
Mr.  Kendle;  they  consider  themselves  under 
orders  like  soldiers." 

"I  know  how  that  goes." 

Kendle  lighted  a  fresh  cigar,  nursed  his  knee 
a  long  time  in  silence,  while  his  brow  remained 
knit. 

"Between  Dukane  and  Company  and  the  in- 
spector on  the  one  hand  and  these  engineers  on 
the  other,  the  fraud  ought  to  show  up  in  the 
blue-prints — unless — " 

"Unless  what?"  Jimmy  encouraged. 

"Could  this  Corbetson  be  working  two  sets, 
a  straight  one  for  the  inspector  and  a  spurious 
one  for  his  assistants?" 

"By  heaven!"  gasped  Jimmy. 

"Well,  you're  in  a  position  to  see — or  rather 
oversee,"  Kendle  quietly  suggested. 


186        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

"And  I  will  see,  or  my  name  shall  never 
change  from  Hemple!" 

For  a  time  Kendle  puffed  and  eyed  the  rest- 
less youth.  A  shade  less  of  impersonality 
showed  in  his  manner,  a  shade  more  of  friend- 
liness. To  himself  he  must  have  admitted,  had 
the  question  arisen  in  his  mind,  that  this  new 
acquaintance  was  somewhat  startling  and  no 
doubt  would  under  other  circumstances  be 
rather  trying. 

"This  business  ought  to  establish  you  in  the 
good  graces  of  Dukane  and  Company,"  he 
offered,  as  mild  flattery. 

Jimmy  halted  sharply  in  his  pacing. 

"What's  that!  Establish!  It  looks  to  me 
after  the  botch  the  company's  made  of  it,  let- 
ting this  two-for-a-quarter  Corbetson  pilfer 
their  pockets  in  such  a  fashion,  that  it's  up  to 
them  to  establish  themselves  in  my  good  graces. 
They  don't  want  to  try  any  patronizing  talk 
with  me.  They'll  have  come  to  me  about  dams 
as  they'd  come  to  an  expert." 

"Ah,  I  hadn't  considered  that  view." 

"No,  and  probably  they  haven't,  but  they'll 
have  to  come  to  it,  for  I'm  going  to  build  this 
dam.  Up  till  now  Corbetson  hasn't  done 
enough  damage  but  what  can  be  easily  repaired, 


UNDER  THE  CHIEF'S  THUMB       187 

if  I  can  get  him  out  in  time."  Under  stress  of 
this  new  and  pressing  necessity  Jimmy  once 
more  took  to  pacing  up  and  down  the  river 
bank,  occasionally  passing  a  hand  across  his 
brow  with  a  perplexed  air.  "It's  this  way," 
he  continued.  "The  dam  goes  up  slowly,  each 
form  has  to  harden.  During  the  time  I've 
been  here  it's  gone  up  a  few  feet,  for  it's  a  big 
work  you  know.  Well,  if  I  can  catch  him  with 
the  goods  pretty  soon  now,  I  can  have  the  men 
jump  in  and  tear  out  all  the  rubble  and  thin 
stuff  he's  spread  over  it  and  then  we  shall  fill 
up  the  empty  forms  with  genuine  reinforced 
concrete  which  won't  cause  much  loss  or  delay. 
I've  got  it  all  figured  out  how  I'll  do  it."  His 
stride  fell  into  a  more  meditative  step.  "Since 
they  build  up  alternate  forms,  it  will — by  Jove, 
I  believe  that  thief  has  been  stealing  the  rail- 
road rails  that  ought  to  have  gone  in  to  rein- 
force the  concrete!  Why,  there  isn't  enough 
steel  in  that  shell  to  make  a  common  theatre 
trunk!" 

This  new  discovery  was  cause  for  a  fresh  tor- 
rent of  anathemas  which  were  directed  in  swift 
succession  at  the  person  of  the  chief.  That 
Jimmy  had  not  until  now  discovered  this  addi- 
tional theft  augmented  in  his  mind  the  degree 


188        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

and  nature  of  the  sin.  He  at  last  cooled  down, 
however,  when  his  companion  informed  him  that 
he  had  been  absent  from  the  store  something 
over  an  hour  and  that  wisdom  dictated  that  they 
should  for  the  present  separate. 

"I'll  examine  the  dam  myself,"  Kendle  said, 
"return  to  Melton  to  watch  the  station  agent, 
ride  to  a  station  east  or  west  and  telegraph  my 
company  to  start  someone  out  to  run  down  the 
office,  the  plant  and  history  of  this  Roseland 
concern." 

A  sudden  inspiration  struck  the  jrouth. 

"Old  man  Roseland  lives  west  here  only 
twenty  miles.  Go  see  him  yourself." 

"Very  well— and  then?" 

"Report  to  me." 

Kendle  laughed  and  said  ironically,  "I'll  do 
so,  my  young  master." 

"That's  right,  I'm  the  boss.  I'm  up  against 
a  stone  wall  in  obtaining  this  information  from 
the  outside  and  so  need  you,  but  I'm  running 
the  affair  just  the  same  as  if  I  hadn't  called 
your  company  to  my  aid." 

"Don't  rub  it  in." 

"Well,  bear  the  fact  in  mind  just  the  same," 
Jimmy  stated,  significantly. 

During  the  afternoon  of  that  day  the  young 


UNDER  THE  CHIEF'S  THUMB       189 

clerk  standing  at  intervals  in  the  store  door 
imagined  he  saw  his  newly-acquired  ally  mov- 
ing among  the  workmen  on  the  dam,  but  con- 
sidering the  distance  that  he  was  gazing  and 
the  fact  that  the  men  were  indistinguishable  he 
concluded  his  eyes  were  playing  him  tricks. 
Further,  he  decided  that  he  liked  Kendle. 
About  the  latter  person  there  was  nothing  offi- 
cious, he  reflected,  or  forward,  or  presuming, 
or  self-assertive,  or  egotistical,  or  anything  of 
that  sort  which  rubbed  a  fellow  the  wrong  way 
and  stirred  up  one's  antagonism.  They  should 
get  along  together  famously. 

The  real  business  of  the  day,  so  far  as  the 
store  was  concerned,  began  after  supper  when 
the  laborers  were  at  leisure  to  make  purchases, 
to  inquire  as  to  their  accounts,  or  to  call  for 
mail.  Articles  of  apparel  were  in  heavy  de- 
mand, since  from  the  rough  character  of  the 
work  in  which  the  men  were  engaged,  clothes 
were  speedily  worn  out,  while  accidents  and 
mishaps  increased  their  naturally  rapid  wear 
and  tear.  For  the  most  part  the  purchasers 
were  easily  satisfied,  but  as  there  was  a  steady 
stream  of  them  demanding  everything  from 
chewing  tobacco  to  boots  both  Dukane  and  the 
proprietor  were  allowed  no  interval  of  rest. 


190        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

By  ten  o'clock,  however,  the  rush  was  over  and 
the  proprietor  retired  to  his  bedroom,  telling 
Jimmy  to  wait  until  eleven,  when  he  should 
close  up. 

"Is  this  the  regular  thing  every  night?"  the 
youth  inquired,  with  a  sudden  suspicion  filling 
his  mind. 

"Yes,  pretty  much  the  same,"  Pennick  an- 
swered. 

Jimmy  brooded.  "That  is  why  Corbetson 
wanted  me  in  here,"  he  declared  vengefully,  "so 
I  couldn't  call  at  the  ranch,  wanted  to  get  me 
out  of  the  way.  Oh,  the  double-dyed  villain, 
the  black-hearted  scoundrel,  the  unbaked  con- 
spirator !  I'll  cut  his  throat  yet !  To  keep  me 
from  seeing  the  sweetest  angel  that  ever  trod 
God's  green — " 

He  cut  off  his  utterance  abruptly  at  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  newspaper  correspondent  who 
once  more  entered  the  building.  The  man  ad- 
vanced with  a  fine  air  of  assurance,  despite  the 
glare  which  Dukane  gave  him  on  account  of  in- 
terrupting the  tender  climax  of  his  soliloquy. 

"Say,  young  fellow,  an  idea  just  struck  me," 
the  correspondent  stated. 

"Then  save  it,  for  you  need  what  few  you 
get,"  was  the  withering  reply. 


UNDER  THE  CHIEF'S  THUMB       191 

The  reporter  held  forth  a  hand. 

"Let  me  see  your  left  arm." 

"What  for?" 

"I  saw  a  birth-mark  on  it  near  the  elbow  this 
morning.  Just  remembered  that  young  Du- 
kane  was  described  as  having  one.  You  had 
your  sleeves  rolled  up,  but  I  didn't  notice  yours 
particularly.  Let  me  see  it." 

A  thrill  of  fear  shot  through  Jimmy.  Was 
this  inquisitive  news-purveyor  going  to  dis- 
cover his  identity  at  last  and  blare  it  to  the 
world?  Were  all  his  plans  to  be  ruined?"" 

"Shame  on  you,  I  lost  my  left  arm  in  the 
war,"  he  bluffed. 

"I  want  to  see  that  birth-mark." 

"Yes,  I'm  covered  with  'em  like  a  leopard. 
Get  out  or  I'll  decorate  your  face,"  Dukane  ex- 
claimed savagely. 

"But  why—" 

Leaping  down,  Jimmy  rushed  at  him.  The 
man  melted  into  the  darkness  of  the  night. 


CHAPTER  IX 

FIRST  MOVE  IN  THE  PLOT 

TVTEANWHILE  on  the  surface  of  things 
•*•  work  went  forward  with  its  accustomed 
vigor.  Across  the  basin  the  stone  crusher 
roared  and  rumbled,  stamping  out  a  great  heap 
of  fine  fresh  white  rock;  from  this  the  mixer 
fed,  adding  its  coarse  note  to  the  resounding 
medley  of  machinery  and  water,  its  great  octag- 
onal barrel  revolving  incessantly  from  early 
morn  till  noon,  from  noon  till  evening;  men 
swarmed  over  the  dam  site,  building  new  forms, 
clearing  away  cliffi  sides,  handling  concrete; 
from  Melton  Miller's  train  of  wagons  hauled 
endless  loads.  The  evidence  of  patient  persist- 
ence, of  a  slow  winning  to  victory,  which  mani- 
fested itself  throughout  and  directed  the  work 
on  every  hand  to  a  definite  end,  caused  young 
Dukane  to  ponder,  comprehend  and  pay  un- 
spoken tribute  to  the  mighty  organization 
which  his  father  had  created.  Corbetson  alone 
had  turned  out  to  be  the  cog  with  a  flaw. 

199 


FIRST  MOVE  IN  THE  PLOT          193 

All  unknowing  the  reflections  of  which  he 
formed  the  subject  the  chief  engineer  was  hav- 
ing ever  increased  worries,  an  ever  added  bur- 
den of  anxiety.  Like  a  plant  in  a  cellar,  a 
secret  grows  towards  the  light.  An  evil  se- 
cret so  strives  most  incessantly  of  all.  If 
there  be  any  one  thing  that  inevitably  points 
as  proof  that  man  was  born  to  do  what  is 
fundamentally  right  it  is  this  extraordinary 
evidence  of  the  workings  of  a  man's  own  mind 
to  reveal  his  crimes.  Corbetson  was  begin- 
ning to  realize  that  ill-gotten  gains  are  always 
dearly  paid  for;  for  his  he  was  paying  in  con- 
stant worry,  fears,  sleeplessness ;  but  like  most 
criminals,  now  that  he  was  fairly  launched  on 
his  dishonest  course,  he  only  the  more  resolved 
to  follow  it  to  the  end  and  reap  its  fruits.  His 
friend,  his  companion,  his  solace,  during  the 
nights  when  he  was  alone,  when  his  thoughts 
were  no  longer  occupied  by  the  various  busi- 
ness demands  of  the  day,  was  his  bottle. 
More  and  more  frequently  he  had  recourse  to 
it;  and  with  the  coming  of  midnight  he  had 
generally  drunk  a  pint  or  so  of  the  whiskey 
and  won  that  misty  peace  of  mind  which  would 
enable  him  to  sleep. 

A  new  fear  had  come  to  clutch  at  his  heart. 


194        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

Ever  since  he  had  received  his  warning  tele- 
gram from  Pittsburg  of  the  coming  of  the  in- 
spector, when  in  consequence  he  had  required 
the  loose  core  of  stone  to  be  coated  over  with 
a  false  layer  of  concrete,  giving  it  an  appear- 
ance of  solidity,  his  two  assistants  had  been 
"cold"  on  the  work  of  construction.  To  them 
he  had  represented  it  as  orders  from  San  Fran- 
cisco; they  believed  Dukane  and  Company 
"grafting"  and  their  sense  of  honesty  was 
sickened  at  this  new  knowledge;  and  Corbet- 
son  seriously  doubted  if  they  would  submit  to 
further  acquiescence  in  such  a  palpable  fraud, 
dreaded  lest  they  resign.  Such  action  on  their 
part  would  cause  the  coast  office  to  ask  them 
for  reasons — and  neither  Satterfield  nor  Les- 
chelles,  once  having  made  the  move,  would 
hesitate  to  give  them  as  well  as  their  opinions 
of  such  character  of  work.  And  then  the 
chief's  fat  would  be  in  the  fire!  Yes,  Corbet- 
son  had  cause  to  worry  and  tremble  at  shadows, 
since  behind  the  shadows  were  solid  persons. 

Dukane,  studying  the  man  from  the  vantage 
afforded  by  being  under  the  same  roof,  soon 
perceived  that  the  chief  was  always  stealthily 
on  guard;  and  now  since  the  idea  had  been  put 
into  the  boy's  head  by  Kendle  that  possibly 


FIRST  MOVE  IN  THE  PLOT          195 

Corbetson  was  playing  a  hidden  game  with 
two  sets  of  maps,  Jimmy  swiftly  found  an  ex- 
planation for  such  ceaseless  vigilance.  The  in- 
criminating maps  were  the  things  to  lay  hands 
on,  but  naturally  this  particular  work  was  at- 
tended by  greatest  difficulty.  He  would  have 
to  await  his  chance.  And  therefore  he  set  him- 
self meanwhile  to  work  to  ferret  out  the  lesser 
"graft,"  that  of  the  store. 

That  night,  when  Pennick,  the  storekeeper, 
was  fast  asleep,  Jimmy  stooped  with  ear  to  his 
employer's  keyhole  to  listen  to  his  snores ;  then 
the  youth  began  a  search  for  evidence.  Be- 
cause he  knew  nothing  whatever  of  bookkeep- 
ing and  business  the  task  was  all  the  more  per- 
plexing; but  undismayed  he  carried  armloads 
of  letter-files,  bill-cases  and  accounts  into 
his  own  sleeping-closet,  where  with  window 
heavily  curtained  against  possible  "peepers," 
he  burrowed  manfully  through  the  mass.  At 
last  he  came  upon  a  number  of  statements  and 
weekly  reports  to  the  San  Francisco  office's 
accountant  which  betrayed  the  plot.  Jimmy 
laid  a  finger  on  his  nose  and  gloated  like  a  cun- 
ning notary  in  a  melodrama.  These  reports 
purported  to  show  the  store  selling  merchan- 
dise to  the  workmen  at  cost,  plus  freight  and 


196        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

operating  expense;  whereas,  in  reality  (Jim- 
my's agile  mind  calculated  it  on  the  instant) 
Corbetson  and  Pennick  were  dishonestly  mak- 
ing a  hundred  per  cent,  profit  for  their  own 
pockets.  It  was  all  clear,  all  simple.  Three 
o'clock  marked  the  face  of  the  tin  clock  before 
Dukane  restored  the  files  and  retired  virtu- 
ously to  his  bed,  a  new  plan  buzzing  in  his 
brain.  At  last,  in  a  jumbled  phantasmagoria 
of  dreams  in  which  whirled  Corbetson  and 
Enid  Crofton  and  Kendle  and  the  reporter, 
maps  and  reports  and  bags  of  cement  and 
creels  of  trout,  he  fell  into  a  heavy  sleep. 

About  eleven  o'clock  next  morning  Enid 
Crofton  herself  walked  into  the  emporium 
where  our  young  hero  leaned  against  a  coun- 
ter staring  into  space  and  meditating  the  nu- 
merous matters  which  now  filled  his  bounding 
life  to  capacity. 

"I  heard  you  were  here,"  said  she,  drawing 
off  her  gauntlets.  "This  work  is  much  more 
suited  to  your  capabilities  than  are  shoveling 
rock  and  driving  freight- teams.  It  was  kind 
of  Mr.  Corbetson  to  take  an  interest  in  you." 

"The  chief  is  a  dear,"  said  he,  ironically. 

"That  speech  is  disrespectful  and  ungrate- 
ful." 


FIRST  MOVE  IN  THE  PLOT          197 

Jimmy  placed  a  chair  for  her. 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  believe  old 
Corbetson  put  me  here  out  of  kindness?"  he 
inquired. 

"If  not,  what?  And  you  shouldn't  speak  of 
him  as  old — he's  not  so  old,  you  know." 

But  Jimmy  was  frankly  sceptical.  "Forty 
may  not  be  old  for  a  would-be  husband,  but 
still  it's  where  a  man  can  look  down  the  other 
side  of  the  hill.  I'll  tell  you  why  he  put  me 
here ;  because  of  you." 

"I  did  ask  him  to  move  you  and  Hop 
Spencer  where  that  ruffian  Lantry  and  his 
men  couldn't  hurt  you." 

At  this  bit  of  news  a  hot  flush  colored 
Jimmy's  face.  His  eyes  flashed  indignantly; 
violent  thoughts  coursed  and  re-Coursed 
through  his  mind.  His  sturdy  figure  swelled 
with  resentment  at  such  unsolicited  aid  which 
put  him  in  the  light  of  being  afraid  of 
Lantry. 

"You  did  that,  did  you !"  he  exclaimed.  "If 
you  think  I'd  cringe  before  that  scoundrel  you 
ought  to  take  a  look  at  him  since  I  finished 
beating  him  to  pieces.  Lantry  hurt  me? 
Well,  I  guess  not!" 

"He's  a  dangerous  man." 


198        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

"He  doesn't  think  he's  half  as  dangerous  as 
he  used  to." 

"But  it  would  be  a  shame  if  those  ruffians 
who're  in  the  habit  of  fighting  should — " 

The  youth  dismissed  the  unfinished  remark 
with  a  wave  of  the  hand. 

"I  can  take  care  of  Mr.  Hemple,"  said  he. 
"So  you  spoke  to  the  chief — but  that  wasn't 
what  I  meant  when  I  said  he  moved  me 
here  on  account  of  you.  It  was  to  put  me 
out  of  the  running,  the  old  scamp!  He 
knew  that  I'd  be  so  busy  here  in  the  store 
nights  that  I'd  never  get  away  to  call  upon 
you.  That  man's^a  villain  if  there  ever  was 

« 

[pw  absurd  you  are." 
teve  it  or  not,  as  you  will,  I  speak  the 

.n^^^^^^te 

The  chief  is  jealous  of  anyone  who 
looks  at  you  excefj^nself ." 

Enid  sat  up,  creasing  her  gloves  rapidly. 

"You  forget,  Mr.  HempleJHpR  we  quar- 
reled one  time  on  this  very  subject.  We'd 
best  not  mention  it  again." 

Dukane  gloomed  a  moment,  then  bright- 
ened. 

"That's  agreeable  to  me.  I'll  recite  my  own 
tale  of  love  for  you;  I've  thought  of  a  million 


FIRST  MOVE  IN  THE  PLOT          199 

new  things  to  tell  you  about  it  that  you'd  love 
to  hear.  I — " 

"You're  too  impetuous,"  said  she,  rising. 

"Do  you  want  a  lover  who  resembles  a  cold 
potato?"  was  his  ardent  rejoinder. 

"I  don't  want  any  lover  at  all." 

"Well,  you've  got  one  and  that's  all  there 
is  about  it,"  Jimmy  stated  conclusively,  shov- 
ing his  hands  into  his  pockets.  "When  I  start 
for  a  thing  I  never  quit;  I  go  ahead  until  I 
win  or  am  knocked  on  the  pate.  You'll  have 
to  decide  one  way  or  the  other  in  the  end,  take 
me  or  kill  me,  for  I'm  your  relentless  lover.  I 
sit  up  nights  reading  Tennyson's  Enid  over 
and  over ;  I  lean  out  of  my  window  under  the 
stars  of  night  gazing  towards  the  spot  where 
you  dwell.  Why,  I  have — " 

Enid  once  more  sat  down.  "When  you've 
Ifoushed  and  regained  a  calm  state  of  mind,  I'll 
buy  a  box  of  chocolates." 

While  pretending  to  ignore  his  impassioned 
words  she  was  not  only  not  averse  to  them,  but 
enjoyed  them  keenly.  They  started  a  respon- 
sive thrill  in  her  breast,  the^  flash  of  his  eyes 
bespoke  sincerity  and  she  experienced  anew 
the  rapture  which  she  had  known  when  he 
voiced  the  same  thoughts  beside  the  river. 


200        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

"Chocolates — oh,  ye  heavens  1"  he  cried  in 
despair.  "A  girl  would  think  of  chocolates 
if  she  were  on  her  way  to  Paradise."  He 
brought  a  beribboned  box  from  a  case  and 
placed  it  in  her  hand. 

She  rose,  looked  about  the  store.  An  irre- 
sistible impulse  moved  her,  a  wayward,  auda- 
cious impulse. 

"Shut  your  eyes,"  she  commanded. 

"Why?" 

"Shut  them — and  promise  to  keep  them  shut 
while  you  count  one  hundred." 

"But—" 

"Will  you?"  She  gave  an  impatient  little 
stamp  of  her  foot. 

Jimmy  obeyed.  Suddenly  two  hands  caught 
his  cheeks,  suddenly  on  his  lips  was  imprinted 
the  softest,  warmest,  sweetest  kiss  in  the  world, 
then  as  his  eyes  despite  his  promise  popped 
open  there  was  a  scamper  of  skirts,  a  spring 
of  a  light  figure  into  the  saddle  and  the  swift 
retreat  of  hoofbeats. 

The  youth  stood  as  one  who  had  been  kissed 
by  a  goddess  and  now  was  turned  to  marble. 
Had  the  heavens  been  rent  asunder  before 
his  eyes  he  could  not  have  been  more  dum- 


FIRST  MOVE  IN  THE  PLOT 

founded,  more  transfixed  in  delicious  ecstasy. 
Then  all  at  once  he  dashed  to  the  door  and 
out  into  the  open ;  but  all  he  perceived  was  her 
figure  on  that  of  her  pony  flying  up  the  river 
road.  He  drew  an  abstracted  hand  across  his 
brow. 

"She  doesn't  hate  me  at  any  rate,'*  he  ex- 
claimed. 

When  he  returned  inside  he  drew  forth  the 
longest  cigar  in  the  showcase,  for  this  ex- 
traordinary miracle  needed  profound  thought, 
and  promptly  went  into  a  brown  study  in  the 
midst  of  a  cloud  of  smoke.  From  time  to  time 
inarticulate  sounds  could  have  been  heard  issu- 
ing from  his  lips,  sounds  which  might  have 
represented  words  but  which  carried  with  them 
no  intelligibility. 

From  this  condition  he  slowly  emerged 
when  Kendle  presented  himself  before  him. 
The  dam  was  all  that  Dukane  had  stated  it  to 
be,  he  remarked,  which  was  a  fraud;  he  was 
now  ready  to  proceed  to  Melton  and  carry  on 
his  investigations  from  that  point.  Jimmy 
leaped  down  from  his  perch  and  caught  him 
by  the  elbow,  speaking  dramatically  into  his 
ear. 


203       THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

"But  that  will  let  us  into  a  lot  of  trouble," 
Kendle  protested,  in  answer  to  the  youth's 
proposal. 

"Not  a  speck.  The  man's  a  coward,  an  ar- 
rant coward." 

Then  once  more  he  poured  forth  his  plan, 
all  the  while  gripping  Kendle's  elbow  as  in  a 
vice,  brushing  aside  scruples,  beating  down  ob- 
jections, sweeping  the  man  forward  by  the 
very  vehemence  of  his  speech,  until  perforce 
he  agreed. 

"You're  on  the  high  road  to  crime  yourself," 
Kendle  announced,  "but  I've  agreed  to  back 
you  up  and  I  will.  Hope  we  don't  get  shot  in 
the  act." 

"Shot  nothing!  If  there's  any  shooting  I'll 
do  it  myself.  Try  a  fresh  cigar."  Jimmy 
made  very  free  with  the  company's  tobacco. 

The  rest  of  that  day  was  one  of  impatience 
for  Dukane.  An  intense  desire  possessed  him 
to  see  Enid  Crofton  once  more,  while  a  vexa- 
tious worriment  at  the  laggard  passing  of  the 
hours  until  the  moment  when  he  should  put 
into  execution  the  first  move  in  his  active  cam- 
paign against  Corbetson  fretted  his  spirit. 
The  chief,  Jimmy  perceived,  was  well  pleased 
with  the  success  of  his  stratagem  in  enticing  the 


FIRST  MOVE  IN  THE  PLOT         203 

youth  into  a  position  where  he  was  forced  to 
abandon  his  evening  visits  to  the  ranch-house. 
Indeed,  the  man  with  an  outward  display  of 
interest  entered  the  store  to  inquire  how  Du- 
kane  liked  the  new  work.  Jimmy,  who  would 
not  be  triumphed  over,  gritted  his  teeth  and 
grinned  as  if  he  were  wholly  abandoned  to  joy. 
He  pronounced  it  fine,  splendid,  grand;  he 
stated  that  he  had  longed  all  his  life  to  be  a 
counter-jumper;  he  could  now  die  happy. 
This  reply  Corbetson  received  suspiciously, 
but  as  he  could  not  at  the  moment  conceive 
how  Dukane  could  circumvent  him  in  the  affair 
of  Enid  Crofton  he  departed  still  well  con- 
tent. 

Jimmy  shook  his  fist  behind  the  man's  back, 
pronouncing  unutterable  threats.  One  does 
not  enjoy  being  made  a  mock,  and  such  Cor- 
betson sought  to  make  of  him.  But  Enid  had 
kissed  him — him — Jimmy  Hemple!  Oh,  he 
would  have  loved  to  tell  the  man  that !  What 
jealousy  it  would  have  stirred  in  the  chief's 
breast,  what  a  rage  in  his  heart!  And  with 
such  comfort  as  this  thought  gave  him  the 
youth  fiercely  set  to  work  to  pile  in  order  a 
tumbled  mass  of  overalls. 

It  seemed  as  if  he  was  not  yet  at  an  end  of 


204        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

being  tormented.     The  correspondent  put  his 
head  in  the  door. 

"Ready  to  let  me  see  that  arm?"  he  de- 
manded. 

"Move  on,  you're  no  surgeon,"  Jimmy  re- 
torted. 

"Nevertheless,  my  son,  I  intend  to  have  a 
look  at  it." 

The  clerk  ceased  his  labor. 

"Come  ahead,  if  you  think  you're  able,"  he 
exclaimed,  belligerently. 

"Not  this  morning,  but  soon.  I  don't  pose 
as  a  fighter.  You  can  talk  till  you're  tired, 
but  I've  an  inkling  here" — the  man  tapped  his 
brain — "of  who  you  are.  I  stay  in  camp  until 
I  find  out  one  way  or  another." 

"Your  visit  will  be  protracted,  I  imagine." 

"Well,  I  just  wanted  to  give  you  warning. 
I  don't  want  you  to  yelp  if  you  get  the  worst 
of  it." 

"Not  me — and  don't  you  bellow  either." 

"We'll  see,  we'll  see,  my  sporty  young 
friend."  And  with  a  sagacious  nod  the 
speaker  disappeared. 

"That  fellow's  walking  into  trouble,"  Du- 
kane  remarked  to  himself  darkly. 


FIRST  MOVE  IN  THE  PLOT          205 

The  day  dragged  out.  Jimmy  ate  a  tre- 
mendous supper  in  expectation  of  an  arduous 
night's  work — work  which  was  not  wholly  to 
be  confined  to  his  customary  duties  in  the  store. 
With  an  enthusiasm  which  cloaked  a  growing 
spirit  of  excitement,  he  dispensed  merchandise 
to  the  workmen  who  trooped  in  during  the 
evening.  Coats  he  recommended  as  garments 
of  iron,  while  "pants"  he  guaranteed  to  wear 
forever.  He  displayed  a  fine  abandon  of 
spirit  in  hurrying  from  one  customer  to  an- 
other, relieving  the  ever-weary  Pennick  and 
exhibiting  a  solicitude  for  the  latter's  ease 
which  won  him  a  place  in  the  proprietor's  es- 
teem equal  to  being  the  apple  of  that  man's 
watery  eye. 

"You're  all  right,  Jimmy,"  was  the  enco- 
mium which  Pennick  pronounced  at  eleven 
o'clock,  when  they  closed  and  locked  the  door 
and  turned  out  the  lights. 

"I  want  to  please  you,"  was  the  modest  re- 
joinder. 

"You  do,  you're  the  real  quill,  son,"  he  gave 
a  huge  yawn.  "Damn  it,  I  must  work  on  the 
books  and  I'm  sleepy." 

"Wouldn't  do  it  if  I  were  you." 


206        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

"Well,  I'll  see." 

He  slumped  back  towards  his  sleeping 
room  which  like  his  clerk's  had  been  formed  by 
partitioning  off  a  space  in  the  rear  of  the  store. 
Jimmy  watched  him  go;  the  youth  could  see 
him  pouring  out  a  half-tumbler  of  whiskey. 
Then  Dukane  stole  to  the  case  holding  revolv- 
ers, selected  the  largest  he  could  find,  a  long- 
barreled  Colts,  and  carefully  loaded  each  cham- 
ber. Dropping  the  weapon  into  his  pocket  he 
next  lighted  a  lantern  and  set  it  in  the  store 
window,  veiling  its  beams  in  such  fashion  that 
they  could  be  seen  only  from  the  road  in  front. 
Presently  there  came  a  soft  tap  on  the  pane, 
the  listening  clerk  pounced  upon  the  lantern, 
blew  out  its  flame  and  then  restored  the  utensil 
to  its  place  on  a  shelf. 

Exultation  sent  his  blood  singing;  the  plot 
was  afoot.  Cautiously  opening  the  door  he 
drew  a  second  figure  into  the  darkness  of  the 
store;  he  whispered  a  few  final  instructions  into 
his  accomplice's  ear,  then  moved  towards  Pen- 
nick's  room. 

The  door  was  still  open.  Pennick  was  evi- 
dently considering  whether  or  not  he  should  in- 
dulge in  another  drink,  for  his  eye  rested 
thoughtfully  on  the  glass  and  bottle  which  re- 


FIRST  MOVE  IN  THE  PLOT          207 

posed  within  reach  upon  the  wash  stand.  His 
gaunt  figure  was  inert;  his  face  wore  a  melan- 
choly expression. 

" Thank  you,  I  will,"  said  Jimmy,  entering 
the  room. 

He  poured  himself  a  portion,  swallowed  it 
and  suddenly  grabbed  for  his  handkerchief  as 
the  hot  tears  welled  into  his  eyes. 

"Almost  pure  alcohol,"  he  gasped,  after  a 
moment. 

"Pretty  strong  for  a  fact,  but  I  like  whiskey 
I  can  taste." 

"Well,  that's  too  bad  then." 

"What's  too  bad?" 

"That  you  won't  have  much  more  of  this 

tt 

particular  kind." 

"Why?  There's  a  whole  barrel  of  it  in  the 
store." 

"Yes,  I  know.  But  you  see,  Pennick,  your 
health's  bad  and  you  can't  stay  to  enjoy  the 
whiskey.  You're  going  away  to-night." 

"Go  on  to  bed,  don't  be  funny." 

"It's  the  hard,  hard  truth  I'm  telling  you, 
my  master.  Perhaps  you  haven't  known 
whom  you've  had  here  to  spot  you,  but  when 
you're  looking  at  me  you  behold  James  A. 
Dukane  junior,  son  of  the  old  man." 


208        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

Pennick  stared,  incredulous,  "You'll  be  try- 
ing to  sell  me  a  gold  brick  next,"  he  said. 

Jimmy  turned  about.  "Come  in,  Kendle." 
His  companion  and  abettor  stepped  into  the 
room,  closing  the  door  after  him.  "This  is 
the  sheriff  who  has  come  to  take  you  to  the 
penitentiary,  Pennick,  for  robbing  the  com- 
pany. I  know  all  about  it ;  don't  say  a  word, 
it's  too  late." 

"But  I — I — "  Pennick  dropped  upon  the 
edge  of  the  bed  where  he  sat  pale  and  trem- 
bling. 

Jimmy  drew  forth  his  revolver  and  laid  it 
impressively  on  his  knee  as  he  leaned  back  in 
the  chair  which  he  had  calmly  taken  possession 
of. 

"Of  course,  if  you  want  to  make  a  confes- 
sion, it  will  go  easier  with  you,"  his  clerk  con- 
tinued. "It's  Corbetson  we're  really  after." 
He  paused,  while  Pennick  turned  a  distracted 
face  from  one  of  them  to  the  other.  "You  see, 
I've  all  your  weekly  statements  and  can  make 
out  a  clear  case." 

"But  you're  Hemple,"  Pennick  protested. 

"This  young  man  is  James  A.  Dukane's 
son,"  Kendle  stated  sternly,  taking  a  step  for- 
ward. Then  to  Jimmy,  "Shall  I  put  the  hand- 


FIRST  MOVE  IN  THE  PLOT          209 

cuffs  on  him?"  He  rattled  a  handful  of  nails 
in  his  pocket. 

A  tremor  ran  over  the  figure  of  the  store- 
keeper. 

"Wait,  wait!"  he  said. 

Bowing  his  face  in  his  hands  he  sat  a  long 
time  sunk  in  a  morass  of  fear,  anguish,  nervous 
terror  and  despair.  The  dogs  of  the  law  were 
snapping  at  his  heels — or  so  he  thought — and 
it  had  been  Corbetson  who  had  inveigled  him 
with  smooth  promises  into  this  criminal  busi- 
ness, until  now  suddenly  the  penitentiary 
loomed  hideously  before  him. 

"Let  me  have  a  drink,"  he  said  finally. 

But  his  hand  shook  so  violently  that  Jimmy 
had  to  pour  out  the  liquor.  He  gulped  it  off 
at  a  draught.  Dukane  flung  in  a  careless  re- 
mark that  he  would  soon  be  where  there  was 
only  water  to  drink  for  the  next  twenty  years. 

"Don't  be  hard  on  me,  men,"  Pennick  said, 
"I  didn't  get  much — the  chief  got  most  of  it. 
He  put  up  the  job  and  pulled  me  in,  then  he 
took  the  big  end.  I  never  really  started  to 
drinkin'  hard  till  I  got  mixed  in  this ;  it  was  the 
only  way  I  could  keep  my  nerve  up.  It  would 
kill  me  to  put  me  in  prison — my  health's  all 
broke  down." 


210        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

Jimmy  adopted  a  commiserative  air. 

"Look  here,  Pennick,  I  haven't  anything 
against  you  personally  and  what  I  say  goes  in 
this  matter.  You've  treated  me  decently — 
and  maybe  I  can  fix  it  so  you  won't  have  to  go 
to  the  lockup.  Hold  on,  don't  paw  me  all 
over."  For  suddenly  the  man  had  staggered 
towards  him,  clasping  at  his  hand. 

"For  God's  sake,  Jimmy,  give  me  a  chance !" 
he  begged. 

"All  right,"  the  boy  made  haste  to  say, 
mightily  embarrassed  by  the  other's  emotion. 
"Go  back  to  the  bed  and  sit  down.  We'll  see 
what  can  be  done."  Then  to  Kendle,  "Take 
down  his  statement." 

Under  a  line  of  questions  Pennick  eagerly 
unbosomed  himself  as  to  the  methods  employed 
in  hoodwinking  the  company  in  the  conduct 
of  the  business.  He  brought  books  and  pa- 
pers to  explain  the  system  of  double  accounts, 
pointing  out  how  the  plan  as  developed  by 
the  chief  had  gradually  been  placed  in  opera- 
tion, first  by  testing  it  in  a  small  way,  which 
was  extended  finally  to  cover  the  whole  busi- 
ness. Kendle  rapidly  transcribed  the  man's 
words  into  a  lucid  statement,  which  damned 
Corbetson  definitely  and  completely. 


FIRST  MOVE  IN  THE  PLOT 

"Not  bad,  not  bad,"  murmured  Jimmy  ap- 
preciatively. 

Thereupon  with  trembling  but  hopeful  fin- 
gers, the  storekeeper  attached  his  signature, 
which  in  turn  was  witnessed  by  the  pseudo- 
sheriif. 

Kendle  scowled  at  the  prisoner.  "So  I'm 
not  to  get  him  into  stripes  after  all,"  he  said. 
"An  officer's  work  is  always  being  tipped  over 
by  you  milk-hearted  persons." 

"Pennick  shall  not  go  to  prison,  I  promise," 
Dukane  answered,  with  a  great  show  of  firm- 
ness. 

"And  these  cuffs  are  the  very  best,  the  latest, 
in  fact."  Kendle  idly  dropped  his  hand  into  his 
pocket  and  once  more  clinked  the  spikes. 

"Don't!  It  makes  me  feel  faint,"  Pennick 
cried.  "I  just  want  to  get  away  where  I  can 
start  over  honest." 

"Pack  up  then ;  you're  going  to-night." 

"To-night?" 

"Yes,  the  sheriff  will  take  you  to  Melton  at 
once,  put  you  on  the  train  and  you  can  vanish." 

A  fresh  paroxysm  of  fear  took  possession  of 
him. 

"He'll  arrest  me,  he  won't  let  me  go!" 

"Never  fear.     All  his  orders  come  from  me. 


THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

I  want  the  combination  of  the  safe  before  you 
go,  that's  all.  Write  it  out  so  that  I'll  have  it. 
Do  you  know  anything  of  this  cement  steal 
of  the  chief's?" 

Pennick  shook  his  head.  "No,  'cept  that 
he's  got  one.  I  never  tried  to  find  out.  The 
store  was  bad  enough." 

Half  an  hour  later  the  rear  of  the  building 
was  shrouded  in  darkness.  Two  figures, 
those  of  the  proprietor  and  his  clerk,  stepped 
through  the  rear  door  into  the  star-lit  night 
and  moved  across  the  ground  towards  a  dark 
blotch  on  the  road,  which  gradually  assumed 
shape  as  a  horse  and  buggy.  A  low  conversa- 
tion ensued,  whereupon  the  proprietor  climbed 
in  beside  the  waiting  driver,  while  Dukane 
stowed  the  valise  he  carried  under  the  seat. 

Pennick  leaned  out  to  shake  the  youth's 
hand. 

"I  hope  you  catch  him,  the  thief!  I'd  have 
been  all  right  but  for  him.  I'll  write  to  you 
some  time,  Jimmy,  wherever  I  am." 

"Good-bye,  Pennick,  you've  nothing  to 
fear." 

The  buggy  drove  softly  away  and  melted 
into  the  darkness  that  covered  the  earth.  Du- 
kane stood  for  a  time  motionless.  Not  a  light 


FIRST  MOVE  IN  THE  PLOT          213 

was  visible,  except  the  millions  of  stars  over- 
head that  dropped  their  thread-like  beams ;  the 
steady  insistent  voice  of  the  river  came  from 
the  canyon.  All  the  world  slept  except  Jimmy 
and  the  river  and  the  two  men  climbing  the  rim 
of  Silver  Peak  Basin. 

"Now  for  the  chief,"  said  Jimmy,  turning 
towards  the  store. 

But  it  was  to  dream  of  a  girl's  fair  face  that 
he  went. 


CHAPTER  X 

AN  UNOFFICIAL  INVESTIGATION 


blew  a  puff  of  smoke  ceiling- 
ward  and  gazed  mildly  at  his  chief  and 
superior.  His  chair  was  tilted  back  against 
the  counter,  his  heels  were  hooked  on  a  round 
and  his  knees  were  elevated  as  high  as  his  chin. 
The  morning  sunshine  poured  through  the 
open  door,  warm  and  pleasant. 

"Pennick  complained  of  pains,"  he  stated. 
"He  was  afraid  that  something  was  going  to 
happen  to  him,  apparently,  so  he  rushed  off 
last  night  leaving  me  in  charge." 

"That  was  an  extraordinary  thing  to  do, 
and  without  consulting  me,"  Corbetson  re- 
marked. 

"Oh,  he  explained  everything  to  me  —  the 
sales,  accounts  and  books.  I'm  a  fine  book- 
keeper." The  other  grew  more  and  more  vis- 
ibly uneasy,  darting  glances  first  about  the 
store  and  then  at  Hemple.  The  latter  con- 

214 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  INVESTIGATION    £15 

tinued  very  much  at  ease,  "Don't  worry,  chief. 
He  put  me  up  to  the  scheme  you're  working 
— I'll  attend  to  it  all  right,  never  fear."  And 
he  bestowed  an  evil  wink  upon  Corbetson. 

"What  are  you  talking  about!"  the  chief 
said,  sharply. 

"Ah,  you  might  as  well  come  down  from  that 
kind  of  talk.  How  was  the  graft  to  go  on" — 
at  that  word  the  other  stiffened — "if  I  didn't 
know  the  particulars  ?  I  assure  you  that  I  can 
play  rings  around  Pennick  when  it  comes  to 
smooth  work  of  that  sort.  Of  course  I  must 
have  my  slice." 

Hating  the  youth  as  he  did,  Corbetson  expe- 
rienced a  venomous  desire  to  choke  the  life  out 
of  him  at  this  speech,  but  he  saw  himself  help- 
less, saw  himself  saddled  through  the  strange 
disappearance  of  the  storekeeper  with  another 
and  undesirable  accomplice.  Already  the 
youth  was  familiarly  presuming  upon  the  fact ; 
he  would  grow  bolder  as  time  passed.  A  thrill 
of  anxiety  shot  through  the  man's  breast  at  the 
new  danger  which  this  complication  presented ; 
the  boy  was  reckless,  audacious;  unscrupulous ; 
the  first  time  he  was  crossed  he  might  shout  his 
knowledge  to  the  whole  world.  Dangerous  in- 
deed ;  a  child  playing  with  powder !  And  what 


216        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

was  worse,  Hemple  would  soon  recognize  his 
power  to  flout  Corbetson. 

"It's  just  as  well  he's  gone,"  he  said,  at- 
tempting to  speak  with  indifference.  "Pen- 
nick  was  half -crazy  with  liquor.  Any  story 
he  told  you  about — " 

"Nay,  nay,  old  man,  he  showed  me  the  books. 
We  might  as  well  understand  one  another.  I 
get  my  whack  at  the  pie  or  I'll  yell  my  head 
off,  and  that  wouldn't  be  healthy  for  Mr.  Cor- 
betson. Don't  act  sulky;  I'm  in  the  deal,  so 
you  might  as  well  smile  and  be  pleasant.  It 
looks  like  easy  money  and  I'll  take  my  chance 
with  you  of  going  to  jail." 

"Keep  your  voice  down,"  the  chief  ex- 
claimed, fiercely. 

"Well,  we'll  whisper  then.  How  much  do 
I  get  out  of  it?  I  must  know  that  at  once." 

Murder  stood  in  Corbetson's  eyes,  while  he 
measured  the  future  and  hesitated  at  a  deci- 
sion. Clearly  he  was  in  a  quandary ;  the  youth 
knew  now  all  about  the  transaction,  while  on 
the  other  hand,  he  as  chief  must  have  someone 
to  conduct  the  business,  and  though  he  hated 
Hemple  with  his  whole  soul  and  loathed  the 
prospect  of  partnership  with  him  he  saw  noth- 
ing else  for  it  but  this  new  alliance.  Fate  had 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  INVESTIGATION    217 

in  truth  played  him  a  scurvy  trick;  when  he 
thought  to  eliminate  the  boy  from  the  field 
wherein  Enid  Crofton  was  the  prize,  he  had 
in  reality  advanced  him  to  a  position  of  un- 
holy power.  What  in  the  name  of  heaven  had 
Pennick  meant  by  vanishing  ?  Surely,  the  man 
was  mad.  Thus  torn  by  doubts,  fears,  passions, 
and  alarms,  the  chief  engineer  at  last  said  in 
an  indistinct  voice  that  Hemple  could  have  a 
quarter  share.  The  minute  the  words  were 
uttered  he  would  have  bitten  off  his  tongue  to 
have  them  back. 

"Good,  the  store  will  run  along  like  a  new 
clock,"  Jimmy  stated  calmly.  "But  I'll  need 
a  helper." 

"Get  some  stupid  individual  who  won't  find 
out  too  much,"  Corbetson  snapped  bitterly. 

"I'll  hire  Hop  Spencer.  He  couldn't  tell 
graft  if  he  met  it  walking  down  the  street. 
You  and  I  ought  to  feather  our  nests  pretty 
comfortably,  old  chap,  before  we're  done  here." 

The  unconcealed  enthusiasm,  the  appalling 
frankness  with  which  Hemple  voiced  his  senti- 
ments made  Corbetson's  blood  run  cold,  for 
even  to  himself  he  had  not,  as  never  is  the 
fashion  of  new  criminals,  permitted  the  crime 
to  appear  in  his  mind  in  all  its  natural  naled- 


218        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

ness.  Too  hideously  it  shocked  the  ears  when 
spoken  in  this  off-hand  manner  and  conjured 
up  unpleasant  associated  pictures  of  punish- 
ment. Would  that  Hemple  were  at  the  bot- 
tom of  the  sea  with  a  mill-stone  about  his  neck  I 
And  from  that  moment  might  have  been  dated 
the  blacker  thoughts  which  engaged  the  chief's 
mind. 

Accordingly  Hop  Spencer  was  installed  that 
noon  in  the  position  of  clerk  so  lately  vacated 
by  his  adored  Jimmy  and  when  he  had  brought 
his  bundle  of  possessions  to  his  new  habitation 
he  drank  as  from  a  cup  of  adoration  the  busi- 
ness directions  which  Hemple  outlined  for  his 
guidance. 

"You  can  read  figures?"  the  proprietor  in- 
quired, with  uplifted  finger.  Spencer  nod- 
ded. "Very  well,  all  you  have  to  do  is  to  fol- 
low the  prices  on  the  tags,  gather  in  the  coin 
and  smoke  all  the  cigars  you  want.  Leave  the 
liquor  alone,  for  you  walk  with  difficulty  as  it 
is,  Hop,  and  it  would  bring  me  to  tears  to  see 
you  trying  to  carry  a  full  cargo." 

Spencer  went  off  into  a  spasm  of  laughter. 
He  never  drank  a  drop,  as  Hemple  well  knew, 
and  therefore  this  admonition  was  to  him  the 
superlative  degree  of  comicality. 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  INVESTIGATION    219 

"I'll  get  drunk  as  a  fiddler,"  he  shouted. 

"And  if  Lantry  or  any  of  his  bunch  annoy 
you,  shoot  their  heads  off,"  Jimmy  concluded. 

The  next  week  passed  with  only  one  incident 
to  mar  the  placidity  of  the  storekeepers'  lives. 
For  they  were  indeed  busy,  since  Jimmy  now 
had  the  burden  of  bookkeeping  to  carry,  a 
strange  complication  of  names  and  figures 
which  confused  him  mightily  and  wrung  many 
a  groan  from  his  lips;  while  Spencer 
though  he  could  read  figures  deciphered  Pen- 
nick's  scrawl  only  after  profound  study  and 
these  hieroglyphics  engaged  him  hours  at  a 
time,  as  he  resolved  to  work  his  fingers  off  for 
Hemple.  Sometimes  in  his  labors  Dukane 
would  pause  with  uplifted  pen  to  wonder  if  he 
should  ever  see  Enid  Crof ton  again ;  for  first  it 
was  three  days  that  elapsed  since  that  momen- 
tous morning  when  she  kissed  him,  then  four, 
then  five,  without  his  having  even  so  much  as  a 
glimpse  of  her  face.  Bound  as  he  was,  like  a 
slave,  to  his  self-imposed  martyrdom  it  seemed 
as  if  centuries  had  dragged  their  weary  length 
by  during  those  five  days.  Then  came  the 
night  of  the  fifth  day. 

Dukane  and  Spencer  had  retired  to  bed,  the 
lame  clerk  in  the  room  formerly  occupied  by 


220        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

Pennick.  Both  were  weary.  It  seemed  to 
Jimmy  that  he  had  scarcely  closed  his  eyes 
when  he  was  aroused  by  a  noise  at  his  window, 
a  low  creaking  noise.  He  sat  up,  looked 
wildly  about  and  put  one  foot  out  upon  the 
floor.  The  hasp  snapped,  a  period  of  waiting 
silence  ensued,  then  the  window  slid  slowly 
upward.  Jimmy's  heart  galloped  tumultously 
in  his  chest  and  he  wished  that  he  had  one  of 
the  store's  long  cannon-like  Colts  revolvers  in 
his  hand.  A  vow  rose  soundlessly  from  his 
lips  that  hereafter  he  would  carry  half  a  dozen 
to  bed  with  him.  Was  this  a  burglar?  Was 
this  Lantry  bent  on  revenge?  He  sat  rigid. 
An  instant  later  he  bent  stealthily  and  grasped 
one  of  his  shoes  by  the  toe.  In  the  pale  light 
framed  by  the  casement  of  the  window  a  figure 
appeared  climbing  in,  slowly,  cautiously,  noise- 
lessly. At  last  the  intruder  gained  the  room. 
Gathering  up  an  armful  of  bed  clothes  Jimmy 
swooped  wildly  upon  him,  at  the  same  time  ut- 
tering a  horrible  yell ;  and  together,  in  one  roll- 
ing, tumbling,  twisting  mass  of  bodies  and 
blankets  the  pair  landed  upon  the  floor.  Du- 
kane  had  caught  the  night  prowler  unawares; 
the  blankets  swathed  the  man's  head  and  muf- 
fled his  cries;  Dukane,  half-naked,  hammered 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  INVESTIGATION 

him  vigorously  with  the  humble  weapon  of 
leather  which  he  carried.  At  last  Spencer 
awakened  by  the  uproar,  by  the  thumping  of 
bodies  on  the  floor  and  against  the  partition, 
hobbled  upon  the  scene  carrying  a  lamp. 

"Help  me  tie  him,  it's  a  burglar,"  Jimmy 
gasped — "it"  expressing  the  exact  appearance 
of  the  shapeless  bundle  which  he  continued  to 
whack,  in  spite  of  choked,  protesting  cries. 

Dukane  ceased.  Gradually  appeared  a 
towsled  head,  then  a  perspiring  face,  then  a 
pair  of  shoulders. 

"Do  you  want  to  kill  me?"  the  man  de- 
manded, indignantly. 

"Aha,  it's  the  reporter!"  Jimmy  exclaimed. 
"So  you've  turned  burglar." 

"Nothing  of  the  kind,  I  just  came  here  on 
business." 

"A  queer  kind  of  business." 

"I  want  a  look  at  your  arm  and  I  intend  to 
have  it.  Because  you  act  stubbornly  about  it, 
I  have  to  resort  to  any  means  I'm  able.  Do 
you  think  my  paper's  keeping  me  here  to  do 
nothing  ?  If  you  had  any  common  sense  you'd 
let  me  see  that  arm  and  have  it  over  with,  in- 
stead of  causing  me  to  go  around  nights  sneak- 
ing in  windows  when  I  want  to  be  sleeping." 


822        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

Jimmy  in  one  of  the  store's  night-shirts, 
which  had  a  brilliant  embroidery  in  red  down 
the  bosom,  surveyed  him  ironically. 

"Of  course,  the  world  is  run  for  the  sole  ben- 
efit of  your  paper,"  he  suggested. 

"Well,  if  you  knew  the  old  man,  you'd  think 
so.  I've  got  to  turn  up  with  some  sort  of  story 
about  this  Dukane  affair  I'm  on  or  I  lose  my 
job." 

"Hop,  show  him  one  of  your  arms,  if  he 
must  see  an  arm." 

Spencer  obediently  displayed  not  one  but 
both  of  those  members  to  the  sulky  gaze  of 
the  prisoner;  they  were  brown,  hard,  well-mus- 
cled arms,  without  a  mark  on  them. 

"I'll  catch  you  yet,"  the  correspondent  said, 
significantly  to  Hemple.  "I've  a  nose  for 
news  and  you're  the  bird  of  paradise  I'm  after. 
I  feel  it  in  my  bones.  If  I  only  dared  I'd 
wire  in  to-morrow  who  I  think  you  are." 

"Why  don't  you  take  a  sporting  chance  and 
do  it,"  Jimmy  urged.  "I'd  enjoy  posing  for 
awhile  as  the  lost  son  and  heir.  Maybe  it 
would  fetch  some  coin  my  way." 

The  reporter  grunted  an  unpleasant  reply, 
then  asked,  "Well,  are  you  going  to  keep  me 
here  all  night?  I  want  to  have  some  sleep." 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  INVESTIGATION    223 

"Climb  out  the  way  you  came.  We  can't 
open  doors  for  amateur  burglars.  And  don't 
try  the  same  route  twice,  for  you  are  likely  to 
receive  a  piece  of  lead  on  your  next  visit." 

Dukane's  reflections  as  he  again  returned 
to  his  couch  were  not  especially  cheerful;  the 
chuckle  with  which  he  had  climbed  under  the 
covers  gave  way  to  anxious  thought.  The 
newspaper  man  was  uncomfortably  near  the 
truth  and  uncomfortably  determined  to  make  it 
the  truth.  Jimmy  had  before  him  a  hot  race. 
Whether  he  could  make  certain  of  Corbetson's 
principal  iniquity  and  obtain  the  proofs  thereof 
before  the  reporter  established  the  identity  he 
sought  was  the  question.  Once  the  tale  was 
put  on  the  wires  that  he  was  Jimmy  Dukane 
and  was  here  in  Silver  Peak  Basin,  the  basket 
would  be  kicked  over  and  all  his  plans  spilt. 
For  a  time  maledictions  flowed  from  his  lips 
upon  the  head  of  the  offending  busybody;  it 
was  only  when  he  remembered  the  whacking 
which  he  had  given  the  fellow  with  his  shoe 
that  the  chuckles  once  more  resumed  their  place 
in  his  throat. 

Thus,  though  he  did  not  see  his  way  out, 
though  indeed  matters  seemed  hopelessly  en- 
tangled for  the  time,  he  realized  that  affairs 


THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

were  pressing  to  an  issue.  Beyond  doubt  his 
hands  were  full,  what  with  the  store,  what  with 
Corbetson,  Lantry,  Enid  Crofton  and  this  re- 
porter. For  once  in  his  life  he  was  primed 
with  business  to  the  chin,  and  if  he  had  had  dif- 
ficulty in  hitherto  employing  his  time  before 
coming  to  this  quarter  of  the  world,  such  was 
not  now  the  case.  He  would,  were  the  truth 
known,  have  liked  a  period  of  rest,  or  if  not 
rest,  at  least  of  single  occupation  with  a  certain 
girl. 

Saturday  dawned  cloudy,  with  a  threaten- 
ing rain  hanging  low  in  the  heavens.  Silver 
Peak  was  invisible,  while  along  the  ridge  which 
formed  the  rim  of  the  basin  billows  of  fog 
rolled  over  the  fringe  of  scattered  pines;  in 
the  canyon,  now  a  gloomy  cleft  in  the  rock, 
the  river  roared  with  a  sullen  angry  voice. 

Dukane  standing  before  the  store  door 
looked  off  at  the  low  wooden  frame  which 
held  the  form  of  the  dam,  at  the  black  dots 
which  were  workmen  moving  on  and  over  the 
scaffolding  and  measured  with  narrowed  eyes 
the  progress  being  made.  To  the  degree  the 
dam  rose  before  he  could  make  his  final  move 
against  the  chief,  whatever  that  should  be,  to 
that  degree  would  the  rubbish  which  consti- 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  INVESTIGATION 

tuted  its  core  have  to  be  torn  out  and  re- 
placed with  genuine  concrete.  This  would  not 
be  easy;  the  thin  layers  of  cement  which  cov- 
ered the  rubbish  from  time  to  time  would  no 
doubt  prove  intractable  enough  to  make  the 
necessary  reconstruction  difficult.  With  the 
future  rather  than  with  the  present,  his 
thoughts  were  therefore  engaged,  wrathful 
thoughts  that  Corbetson  should  thus  dare  to 
violate  the  trust  imposed  in  him,  while  laying 
a  train  of  events  which  would  result  in  withered 
farms  and  ruined  settlers.  The  breaking  of 
the  dam,  once  the  desert  was  made  to  blossom, 
would  be  nothing  short  of  a  gigantic  disaster. 
And  as  he  meditated,  the  gravity  of  the  part  he 
played,  the  valuable  purpose  he  was  destined 
to  serve  in  preventing  a  crime  against  a  num- 
ber of  fellow  men,  for  the  first  time  really  as- 
sumed full  proportions  in  his  mind.  What 
in  the  beginning  had  merely  been  an  intense 
personal  desire  to  balk  Corbetson  now  ap- 
peared as  something  more  serious,  more  com- 
prehensive, greater  and  more  worthy.  To  the 
humble  workmen  wrho  toiled  for  two  dollars 
a  day  by  the  sweat  of  their  brow,  laboring  un- 
wittingly in  a  dishonest  work,  a  duty  was  ow- 
ing by  him;  to  the  younger  engineers  who 


THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

knew  the  wrong  being  committed  and  who  yet 
must  out  of  loyalty  to  their  employer  keep  si- 
lent; to  his  father's  company  which  was  being 
grossly  betrayed ;  to  the  owners  who  were  build- 
ing the  project  in  good  faith!  For  he  had  the 
power  to  right  the  wrong.  As  the  ramifica- 
tions of  the  injury  Corbetson's  evil  course 
would  work  displayed  themselves,  he  almost 
shrank  back  appalled.  He  wiped  his  forehead 
and  gazed  about;  he  must  stop  this  sinister 
business,  stop  it  soon. 

A  sense  of  heavy  responsibility  depressed 
him.  This  was  a  man's  task  he  had  under- 
taken; and  Corbetson,  once  he  was  aware  he 
was  threatened  by  discovery,  would  turn  it 
into  a  man's  war.  Half-wonderingly,  Du- 
kane  asked  himself  if  he  were  equal  to  the 
work ;  if  he  were  indeed  a  man  and  after  all  not 
merely  a  boy.  Then  the  image  of  his  father 
rose  before  him,  that  stern,  fearless  ruler  who 
could  be  generous  to  his  enemies  but  who  asked 
no  quarter.  A  warm  flush  of  pride  suffused 
Jimmy  at  recollection  of  his  parent  and  he 
knew  on  the  instant  that  in  similar  circum- 
stances to  those  in  which  he  himself  stood  Du- 
kane  senior  would  never  have  flinched.  He 
too  would  show  that  another  Dukane  could  be 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  INVESTIGATION    227 

a  man,  could  grapple  with  grave  obstacles  and 
be  their  master.  Throwing  back  his  shoulders, 
he  set  his  jaw.  The  son  would  be  worthy  the 
father. 

"I  believe  I'm  entering  a  new  era,  as  the 
books  say,"  he  exclaimed  aloud.  "The  gay 
and  scintillating  past  is  a  thing  to  be  wiped 
out  in  manful  deeds.  Dad  will  shed  tears  of 
joy  on  my  shoulder."  Nevertheless  though 
his  speech  was  light,  his  resolve  was  firm. 

About  noon  he  caught  sight  of  Enid  Crof- 
ton  riding  a  long  way  off;  he  ran  out  and 
waved  his  hand  frantically  at  her,  but  she  did 
not  appear  to  see  him,  she  rode  on  her  way 
without  making  response,  until  finally  he  was 
compelled  to  give  over  in  chagrin.  Under  or- 
dinary circumstances  this  would  have  left  him 
ripe  for  the  quarrel  which  Lantry  attempted  to 
force  upon  him  sometime  later,  but  he  was 
learning  to  think  twice  on  a  matter  before  giv- 
ing rein  to  his  tongue.  The  fellow,  accom- 
panied by  another  man,  stamped  insolently 
into  the  store  and  demanded  a  shirt.  Jimmy 
laid  out  several  for  his  inspection,  all  the  while 
speaking  circumspectly. 

"Wrap  it  up  quick  or  I'll  tear  off  your 
scalp,"  the  man  growled.  And  when  he  re- 


228        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

ceived  the  parcel,  "Come  outside  and  I'll  pay 
you  what  I  owe." 

"You  can  pay  for  the  shirt  or  charge  it," 
Dukane  said. 

"Who's  talkin'  about  shirts!  You  thought 
you  and  your  bunch  could  beat  me  up  with 
impunity;  I'm  goin'  to  get  you  for  that  busi- 
ness, if  I  work  in  this  camp  for  a  year  to  do 
it." 

"Very  well." 

"Keep  it  in  mind,  you've  got  it  comin'  to 
you.  They'll  take  you  to  the  hospital  for  a 
month  when  I'm  done." 

The  promised  rain  came  that  evening  in  the 
form  of  a  foggy  drizzle,  continuing  throughout 
Sunday  and  Monday.  With  the  passage  of 
time  Dukane  grew  more  and  more  impatient  to 
learn  whether  his  suspicions  were  correct  as  to 
Corbetson's  manipulating  two  sets  of  maps  in 
the  construction  of  the  dam.  This  fact  he 
must  definitely  verify.  Watch  as  he  would  he 
never  beheld  open  the  oaken  chest  which  held 
what  must  have  been  the  two  series  of  blue- 
prints, though  the  false  ones  were  always  at 
hand  for  the  assistants'  reference ;  for  the  chief 
carefully  locked  the  box  each  time  he  raised 
its  lid.  As  has  been  stated  the  store  occupied 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  INVESTIGATION 

one-half  of  the  double  frame  building,  while 
the  chief's  offices  filled  the  other  and  a  door, 
usually  open  during  the  day,  led  from  one 
room  to  the  other.  Through  this  the  youth 
maintained  his  surveillance  as  he  moved  about 
the  store,  hoping  that  the  opportunity  for 
which  he  prayed  would  finally  come. 

Patience  is  generally  rewarded  in  this  world ; 
about  eleven  o'clock  he  paused  in  an  aisle  be- 
tween two  counters,  transfixed  by  a  glimpse 
of  the  chest  which  he  caught  through  the  open 
door.  It  sat  against  the  opposite  side  of  the 
long  office,  its  lid  was  lifted,  resting  against 
the  wall.  He  stole  forward  and  gazed  into 
the  room.  Corbetson  stood  over  a  long  table 
upon  which  were  outspread  two  blue-prints  side 
by  side,  the  corners  of  each  fastened  with 
thumb  tacks,  and  was  evidently  engaged  in  a 
studied  comparison,  as  his  look  moved  back  and 
forth  from  one  to  the  other.  From  time  to 
time  he  noted  figures  on  a  memorandum  pad. 
At  last  he  loosened  the  tacks  in  one  with  his 
knife-point,  rolled  up  the  sheet  and  stood  con- 
sidering, when  as  voices  sounded  outside  he 
glided  silently  to  the  chest,  dropped  the  roll 
within  and  lowered  the  lid.  Leschelles  and 
Satterfield  entered.  With  an  ardent  eye  Du- 


230        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

kane  observed  that  the  chief  turned  to  meet 
them  without  locking  the  box. 

A  technical  discussion  ensued  among  the 
three  engineers.  Dukane  gradually  withdrew 
until  he  was  sheltered  by  a  pile  of  boots  and 
shoes  heaped  high  on  an  open  tray,  from  which 
point  of  vantage  he  could  still  command  the 
interior  of  the  office.  The  three  men  continued 
to  talk,  occasionally  consulting  the  map  which 
had  been  left  upon  the  table.  If  the  chief 
would  but  leave  the  room  for  a  fraction  of  a 
second! — and  as  the  wish  flashed  through  the 
watcher's  mind  the  three  men  moved  towards 
the  door.  They  went  out;  Jimmy  held  his 
breath,  until  the  blood  beat  like  little  hammers 
in  his  ears.  Inch  by  inch  he  edged  around  the 
pile  of  boots,  moved  towards  the  door ;  he  put 
an  eye  to  the  line  of  its  lintel  and  gazed  at 
the  office  front,  through  the  windows  of  which 
he  could  see  the  men  standing  outside.  Their 
backs  were  towards  him;  they  pointed  at  the 
dam,  still  discussing  the  point  in  question. 

Should  he  risk  the  opportunity  or  should  he 
not?  He  measured  the  space  he  had  to  cross, 
then  glanced  at  the  back  of  the  chief  engineer 
visible  through  the  glass.  The  men  walked 
forward  a  dozen  paces,  again  halted.  If  the 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  INVESTIGATION    231 

trick  was  ever  to  be  turned,  now  was  the  time ; 
but  should  Corbetson  chance  idly  to  turn  he 
could  not  miss  the  sight  of  Dukane's  figure, 
since  the  open  door  gave  range  of  the  whole 
front  office.  With  sudden  decision  Jimmy 
went  forward  on  tip-toe,  swiftly,  silently,  and 
now  that  the  die  was  cast  never  transferred  his 
look  from  the  chest.  He  breathed  in  short, 
repressed  breaths;  his  heart  beat  thunderously 
in  his  bosom,  while  all  the  sensations  of  a  bur- 
glar forcing  a  dangerous  enterprise  were  his. 

Half  a  minute  later  he  had  the  lid  once 
more  leaning  against  the  wall  and  he  was 
reaching  for  the  topmost  roll.  Unfortunately 
there  were  many  rolls.  Which  was  the  one  the 
chief  had  last  examined  he  had  no  way  of 
knowing.  He  bit  his  lip  with  vexation,  tem- 
porary anger ;  he  twitched  in  a  fever  of  excite- 
ment. Well,  thought  he,  one  might  as  well 
be  taken  for  a  goat  as  a  sheep;  and  there  was 
the  consolation  that  the  goat  generally  learned 
what  it  wanted  to  know  while  the  sheep  did  not. 
Turning  he  slipped  to  the  table  and  hurriedly 
scanned  the  map  outspread  upon  its  surface; 
with  the  outline  which  it  stamped  upon  his 
brain  fresh  in  mind  he  fell  upon  the  rolls  in  the 
chest,  opening  each  in  turn  until  at  the  fifth 


THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

he  found  the  one  he  desired — the  duplicate  and 
yet  not  the  duplicate  of  the  one  on  the  table. 
Success  engenders  boldness.  With  a  sense 
of  newly  acquired  power  he  walked  to  the  table 
and  spread  the  map  beside  its  mate,  thereby 
tempting  fate  almost  beyond  endurance.  But 
it  seems  that  audacity  at  times  carries  its  own 
protection;  the  chief  continued  to  speak  with 
his  assistants,  never  once  facing  about.  The 
maps  were  of  only  a  section  of  the  dam,  but 
to  one  who  like  Dukane  had  kept  his  ears  and 
eyes  open  and  absorbed  all  manner  of  scraps  of 
information,  they  were  readily  intelligible. 
The  number  on  each — 7 — showed  that  they 
were  the  same.  In  outline  only,  however,  were 
they  similar;  the  one  which  the  young  investi- 
gator held  open  indicated  a  solid  construction 
of  reinforced  concrete,  while  the  other,  the 
working  map,  was  wholly  different  in  char- 
acter ;  it  outlined  a  box-like  structure,  or  rather 
a  series  of  box-like  cells  filled  with  loose  stone ; 
this,  he  perceived,  corresponded  exactly  to  the 
actual  form  in  which  the  dam  was  being  built. 
It  was  a  fascinating  study,  one  that  confirmed 
beyond  doubt  the  suggestion  made  to  him  by 
Kendle  and  which  he  had  adopted  for  his  own. 
With  these  two  sheets  open  side  by  side  the 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  INVESTIGATION 

fraudulent  nature  of  the  work  was  clear  as 
water. 

A  long,  slow,  immense  sigh  of  satisfaction 
issued  from  Dukane's  lips.  Next  instant  he 
started  up;  a  boot-heel  had  sounded  on  the 
doorsill  and  he  saw  Corbetson  advancing  to- 
wards him.  The  released  map  flew  into  a  roll 
in  his  hands,  his  thoughts  raced  at  lightning 
speed  during  the  interval  before  the  chief 
reached  him,  in  an  effort  to  frame  some  plausi- 
ble explanation  of  his  act.  Out  of  the  cir- 
cumstances however,  his  usually  agile  mind 
found  little  material  on  which  to  build. 

"What  are  you  doing  in  here?"  Corbetson 
demanded. 

In  order  to  gain  time  Dukane  sat  down  upon 
the  end  of  the  table,  swung  a  foot,  ran  his 
hand  through  his  hair,  gazed  about  the  room 
and  stroked  the  roll  of  paper  he  held. 

"Nothing  in  particular,"  he  replied  mildly. 

Corbetson  seized  the  roll  which  he  fingered, 
jerked  it  open;  his  eyes  played  for  an  instant 
to  and  fro  between  it  and  the  one  on  the  table. 
Then  he  whirled  quickly  to  look  at  the  chest. 
Out  of  his  face  the  blood  faded  slowly,  only 
to  return  with  a  rush. 

"You  thief!    What  are  you  doing  in  that 


THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

box?  What  do  you  know  about  these  maps!" 
he  exclaimed,  with  vehemence  of  passion 
which  Dukane  would  scarcely  have  credited  to 
the  man.  "You  spy!  Coming  in  here  when 
my  back  is  turned  to  meddle  in  what  doesn't 
concern  you!" 

He  took  a  step  towards  the  youth,  lifting  a 
clenched  fist.  His  eye  burned  with  half-mad 
fury,  his  mustache  showed  on  his  lip  in  a  stiff, 
bristling  line. 

"Don't  strike  me!"  Dukane  cried,  slipping 
to  his  feet. 

Nevertheless  for  the  first  time  a  real  thrill 
of  fear  ran  through  his  body.  For  the  eyes  he 
looked  into  were  the  eyes  of  a  man  temporarily 
capable  of  murder. 

"Breathe  a  word  of  what  you've  seen  and — 5: 
Corbetson  did  not  finish  his  threat  with  speech, 
but  his  menace  was  plain. 

"I've  only  one  thing  to  say  to  you,"  Dukane 
answered,  setting  his  jaw.  "I've  a  bullet  for 
the  man  who  lays  a  finger  on  me." 

And  with  another  flashing  interchange  of 
hostile  looks  each  turned  away. 


CHAPTER   XI 

THE  COUNTER  STROKE 

TT7HEREAS  Corbetson  had  hitherto  ex- 
*  *  perienced  that  uneasy  dread  of  discovery 
which  every  criminal  knows,  he  now  suffered 
the  torments  which  come  to  the  guilty  man 
when  he  learns  that  his  crime  is  the  knowledge 
of  another  and  has  become  a  sharp  sword  over 
his  head.  By  nature,  by  training,  the  chief 
engineer  shrank  from  anything  that  partook 
of  the  character  of  personal  physical  violence ; 
he  was  cunning  instead  of  daring.  That  it 
should  be  Hemple  of  all  men,  the  youth  who 
seemed  by  force  of  destiny  to  have  been  flung 
as  an  obstacle  across  his  path  at  every  turn, 
made  the  morsel  all  the  more  bitter;  he  could 
not  of  course  know  that  both  Dukane's  pur- 
pose and  acts  were  the  result  of  deliberate 
intention.  From  the  colloquy  which  had  en- 
sued after  Pennick's  evanishment  he  believed 
that  the  young  man  was  as  unscrupulous 
as  himself,  that  he  possessed  far  more  brains 

235 


236       THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

than  the  average  run  of  workmen  and  that 
having  caught  the  chief  engineer  at  a  disadvan- 
tage, would  suck  money  out  of  him  as  a  leech 
sucks  blood.  Well,  he  would  allow  the  boy 
to  hold  the  impression  that  he  was  successful 
and  meanwhile  he  would  arrange  to  be  rid  of 
him  for  good.  Now  there  was  Lantry  who 
also  hated  him.  Corbetson  sank  back  into  his 
revolving  chair,  his  brows  gradually  drawing 
closer  and  closer  together. 

As  for  the  subject  of  his  diabolical  medita- 
tions, Dukane  took  to  standing  often  in  the 
rear  of  the  store,  whence  he  could  look  both  to- 
wards the  Crofton  home  and  towards  the  road 
that  led  from  Melton.  For  a  girl  who  had  vol- 
untarily kissed  him  Enid  was  now  singularly 
perverse  in  not  showing  herself;  while  Kendle 
was  irritatingly  slow  in  putting  in  an  appear- 
ance to  report  the  success  or  failure  of  his 
secret  inquiry.  Until  the  fact  was  thoroughly 
established  that  the  Roseland  Cement  Com- 
pany, whatever  kind  of  company  it  was,  was 
working  with  Corbetson  in  the  fraud,  the  chain 
of  evidence  would  not  be  complete.  Dukane 
gradually  worked  himself  into  such  a  state  of 
fretful  impatience  that  Hop  Spencer  believed 
him  attacked  by  some  mysterious  ailment  and 


THE  COUNTER  STROKE  237 

the  cripple  began  to  spend  time  reading  the 
labels  on  the  bottles  of  the  store's  patent  medi- 
cine stock. 

But  on  Wednesday  this  changed.  A  note 
was  left  for  Jimmy  at  the  door  which  for  the 
time  being  banished  his  clouds  and  made  the 
day  brilliant.  It  read : 

"I  will  be  riding  on  the  ridge  this  evening. — 
Enid." 

All  his  heart  bounded  up  at  this  veiled  ex- 
pression of  desire  on  her  part  to  see  him,  to 
meet  him  again  and  alone.  In  an  ecstasy  he 
read  the  line  over  and  over,  repeating  the 
words  half  aloud,  smiling  on  the  dainty  sheet 
of  note-paper  and  at  last  concluded  by  placing 
it  in  his  breast.  Was  she  beginning  to  love 
him?  Had  he  drawn  her  heart  to  him?  A 
thousand  anxious,  happy,  unanswered  ques- 
tions ran  through  his  mind,  a  thousand  fancied 
interchanges  of  words  and  looks  and  speeches, 
while  for  half  an  hour  he  sat  on  a  cracker- 
box  behind  the  store  whither  he  betook  himself 
and  gazed  in  mute  adoration  at  the  distant 
ranch  house  which  guarded  his  beloved  Enid. 

About  six  o'clock  he  bethought  himself  that 
he  should  have  dispatched  a  reply;  would  she 
not  expect  a  reply? 


238        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

"Hop!"  he  shouted,  then  remembered  that 
Spencer  had  limped  away  to  eat  his  supper. 

So  until  his  clerk's  return  he  contained  his 
new  impatience  only  by  holding  her  note  before 
him,  dreamily  staring  at  it.  Finally  he  took 
pen  and  scratched  across  the  bottom  of  the 
sheet : 

"I  would  go  to  the  ends  of  the  earth  to  gain 
a  single  look  from  you. — Jimmy." 

His  heart  exulted  as  he  conned  this  splendif- 
erous avowal,  this  grandiloquent  sentiment. 
Sitting  there  with  his  body  among  piles  of 
overalls,  of  boots,  of  food,  he  nevertheless  had 
his  head  among  the  stars  and  drank  the  divine 
glory  which  is  only  known  by  poets,  martyrs, 
and  lovers.  When  at  last  Hop  Spencer  re- 
turned he  handed  him  the  note,  now  folded  in 
a  fresh  envelope. 

"Take  this  to  Miss  Crofton  at  once,  Hop, 
and  don't  soil  it  with  your  fingers,"  he  com- 
manded. "Carry  it,  my  lame  Mercury,  as  if 
you  were  carrying  a  book  with  leaves  of  gold 
bound  by  jewels  to  a  princess  in  a  far  country. 
Place  it  in  her  own  hands,  bow  low  and  retire 
without  speech.  This  is  the  most  important 
mission  you  will  ever  perform  in  your  life, 
therefore  go  with  due  haste." 


THE  COUNTER  STROKE  239 

Spencer  was  unquestionably  impressed  by 
the  eloquent  style  of  the  command.  As  be- 
fitted an  affair  of  great  importance  his  face 
settled  into  lines  of  gravity.  He  received  the 
letter  and  turned  it  over  thrice,  regarding  it 
reverently. 

"But  how  about  your  supper?"  he  mustered 
courage  to  ask.  For  his  master  to  miss  a  meal 
would  be  a  serious  matter. 

Jimmy  waved  this  aside  with  a  lofty  air. 

"Stop  in  and  tell  the  cook  to  keep  something 
warm,"  he  said,  "then  deliver  this  and  hurry 
back,  for  you'll  have  to  run  the  store  awhile  by 
yourself." 

It  was  a  brilliant  evening.  The  storm  of 
the  early  part  of  the  week  had  brought  the  first 
hint  of  autumn,  leaving  on  its  departure  a 
slight  frost  that  had  quenched  here  and  there 
upon  a  bush  or  tree  the  flow  of  green  and  edged 
it  with  gold  and  crimson.  The  day  was  begin- 
ning to  die  as  Dukane  set  leisurely  forth  to- 
wards the  ridge,  following  a  footpath  that 
skirted  the  basin  rim  instead  of  pursuing  the 
usual  road.  He  had  dismissed  the  immediate 
burden  of  his  secret  war  against  Corbetsor*; 
for  the  time  being  he  resolved  to  put  aside 
care,  to  drink  in  the  beauty  of  the  passing  day, 


240        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

to  enjoy  the  meeting  with  Enid  Crofton  and 
sip  the  cup  of  happiness  of  which  of  late  he 
had  tasted  so  little. 

His  release  from  the  confinement  of  the 
store  was  like  a  new  breath  of  life.  He  filled 
his  lungs  with  the  crystal  air;  as  he  advanced 
he  gazed  about  him  at  the  trees,  the  stones,  the 
rugged  lofty  mass  of  Silver  Peak  which  wore 
a  fresh  mantle  of  snow  and  presented  a  dif- 
ferent aspect  to  the  world.  Among  the  bushes 
on  the  rocky  hillside  a  few  invisible  birds  were 
chirping,  while  over  the  whole  basin  descended 
the  peace  of  evening. 

What  a  wondrous  change  had  been  wrought 
in  his  life!  He  reviewed  each  subsequent 
event  from  the  moment  he  stepped  off  the  pull- 
man  car  until  the  present  and  marked  how  each 
had  contributed  its  share  towards  the  transfor- 
mation. It  was  as  if  Silver  Peak  Basin  had 
been  cast  by  nature  for  this  very  purpose,  as 
if  prepared  as  a  background  against  which  to 
stage  the  small  but  eventful  drama  of  his  life. 
Everything  had  led  to  it — mountain,  dam  and 
river.  The  denouement  was  yet  to  be  en- 
acted; what  the  end  would  be  was  yet  to  be 
unfolded. 

Presently  he  came  to  the  road  and  ascended 


THE  COUNTER  STROKE 

the  hill.  When  he  paused  about  half-way  up 
and  looked  toward  the  Crofton  ranch,  he  be- 
held a  figure  on  horseback  emerging  from  the 
trees  that  framed  the  house — she  was  coming! 
He  quickened  his  pace,  he  would  be  on  top  of 
the  ridge  to  greet  her;  and  glancing  over  his 
shoulder  as  he  climbed  he  observed  that  she 
was  riding  in  his  direction  at  a  brisk  canter. 
By  the  time  he  completed  the  ascent  she  had 
reached  the  foot  of  the  ridge  and  was  hidden 
by  the  scrub  of  pines  that  grew  scattering  over 
the  earth.  Seating  himself  upon  a  boulder  he 
pushed  back  his  hat  and  surveyed  the  prospect 
which  the  plain  opened  up  before  him.  In  the 
evening  light  it  seemed  to  swim  in  a  lake  of 
purple,  shot  here  and  there  with  streaks  of  gold 
or  wine-color.  The  ineffable  peace  of  ap- 
proaching night  filled  it  and  the  immense 
space,  the  wide  plain,  seemed  impregnated  with 
a  sentient  brooding  soul. 

Suddenly  the  youth  was  aroused  from  his 
reverie  by  a  noise  in  his  rear.  He  turned  his 
head,  then  leaped  to  his  feet,  startled,  alarmed, 
on  guard.  For  Lantry  stood  a  few  paces  off, 
while  on  every  side  men  were  appearing,  from 
trees,  from  bushes,  from  stones,  as  if  all  at 
once  sprang  up  out  of  crevices  in  the  earth. 


THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

"So  here  you  are,  waitin'  to  see  your  girl," 
Lantry  jeered. 

Instantly  the  knowledge  that  he  had  been 
tricked  by  a  forged  note  flashed  into  Jimmy's 
brain ;  he  looked  at  one  and  another  of  Lantry's 
companions,  eight  of  them,  and  perceived  that 
he  was  ringed  about,  that  he  had  walked  into 
the  trap  prepared  for  him,  that  the  camp  ruf- 
fian at  last  had  him  in  his  power.  But  how! 
The  plan  of  a  forged  note  on  dainty  stationery 
was  too  subtle  for  such  a  man.  Could  this  be 
Corbetson's  counter-stroke?  Had  he  taken 
advantage  of  the  enmity  burning  in  Lantry's 
breast  against  Hemple  to  employ  the  man  for 
his  own  scoundrelly  purpose?  And  now  to 
complicate  matters  here  rode  also  Enid  Crof- 
ton  into  the  men's  hands. 

"Yes,  I'm  here.  What  do  you  want?"  he 
asked. 

"Why,  the  honor  of  your  company,"  the 
leader  mocked. 

A  little  distance  behind  Dukane  a  rock 
shaped  like  an  old-fashioned  straw  bee-hive 
thrust  itself  out  of  the  ground  to  the  height  of 
some  eight  feet.  Casting  a  quick  glance  about 
him  the  boy  observed  it,  saw  that  if  he  gained 
its  cover  the  men  could  approach  him  only  in 


THE  COUNTER  STROKE  243 

front.  Jumping  back  two  or  three  steps  he 
next  instant  stood  with  his  back  against  its  sur- 
face ;  though  it  was  but  a  grain  of  comfort  this 
new  position  afforded  him  since  he  was  out- 
numbered nine  to  one. 

He  dropped  his  hands  into  his  coat-pockets 
and  bent  his  black  brows  once  more  on  Lantry. 

"You're  here  by  the  chief's  orders  I  see,"  he 
remarked. 

The  success  of  the  stratagem  had  put  the 
leader  in  the  good  humor  which  generally  pre- 
cedes brutality  in  brutal  men.  To  his  notion 
the  situation  was  one  from  which  he  could  ex- 
tract considerable  amusement. 

"Good  guess.  The  chief  is  cleanin'  the 
tough  characters  out  of  camp  and  is  beginnin' 
with  Jimmy  Hemple." 

"What  do  you  intend  to  do  with  me?" 

"Never  you  mind — but  it'll  be  a  plenty. 
Come  along  now."  He  took  a  step  and  put 
out  a  hand  towards  Dukane,  while  his  follow- 
ers narrowed  the  circle  which  hemmed  their 
prisoner  in. 

Dukane  brought  forth  his  right  hand ;  it  held 
a  large,  business-like  automatic  revolver.  At 
sight  of  this  ugly  weapon  which  could  pour 
a  stream  of  lead  into  their  midst  by  the  mere 


THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

pressure  of  a  finger,  Lantry  drew  back  hastily 
with  his  men  following  his  example.  Jimmy 
said  nothing.  He  ran  his  tongue  over  his  lips 
once,  pulled  his  slouch  hat  down  over  his  brow 
a  trifle  lower  and  waited. 

"Here  put  that  up;  we  don't  want  any 
shootin',"  Lantry  said.  "Don't  make  a  fool 
of  yourself." 

In  the  face  of  such  an  overwhelming  number 
as  surrounded  him  the  leader  had  anticipated 
that  Hemple  would  yield  with  nothing  more 
than  vocal  protest.  This  was  another  kind  of 
affair;  the  sting  which  the  boy  carried  was 
likely  to  make  it  a  bloody  affair  if  they  at- 
tacked him.  Some  of  the  men  drew  back ;  the 
death  either  of  themselves  or  of  Hemple  was 
not  part  of  the  bargain,  and  they  were  well 
aware  that  even  if  the  prisoner  with  his  back 
against  the  rock  was  killed,  three  or  four  of 
their  own  number  would  in  the  end  be  sacrificed 
before  a  victory  was  obtained.  Much  as  Lan- 
try would  personally  have  liked  to  see  the  boy 
dead,  much  as  he  hated  him,  he  was  too  shrewd 
to  seek  his  death  under  such  circumstances. 
Once  it  became  known,  and  known  it  was  bound 
to  be  with  so  many  participants,  that  nine  men 
had  slain  one  youth  nothing  would  stop  the 


"  Here,  put  that  up;  we  don't  want  atiy  shootin  '," 
Lantry  said 

Pagt  244 


THE  COUNTER  STROKE  245 

vengeance  that  in  truth  would  strike  them. 
Therefore  this  was  not  the  occasion,  or  at  least 
not  the  way. 

"Well,  are  you  goin'  to  put  that  gun  up?"  he 
demanded. 

"No." 

The  entire  affair,  surprise,  defense  and  talk, 
had  occurred  rapidly.  While  half  the  men 
kept  a  watchful  eye  upon  Hemple,  Lantry 
consulted  in  a  low  voice  with  the  others.  The 
upshot  of  this  conference  was  that  the  men  wi- 
dened their  circle  a  space,  thus  enclosing  the 
whole  rock.  By  this  maneuver  Dukane  could 
not  see  the  complete  number,  or  follow  the 
movements  of  two  who  had  moved .  back  out 
of  sight.  Meanwhile  he  debated  what  course 
to  pursue,  whether  to  remain  where  he  was  un- 
til they  either  forced  the  fight  or  gave  it  up,  or 
to  spring  forward  and  by  threat  of  his  pistol 
break  through  their  ranks. 

Again  Lantry  and  the  men  in  sight  gathered 
closer,  so  close  indeed  that  they  faced  him  but 
three  paces  off.  He  leaned  a  little  towards 
them,  gripping  his  revolver,  shifting  his  eyes 
from  those  in  front  to  those  who  edged  against 
the  sides  of  the  rock,  resolving  never  to  be 
taken  alive. 


246        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

"We  don't  intend  to  hurt  you,"  Lantry 
stated,  "we  only  want  to  see  that  you  go  to 
Melton  and  keep  out  of  camp." 

"Yes,  I  know  you're  the  kind  of  man  to 
trust,"  Dukane  replied,  scornfully,  "but  when 
I  go  away  from  here  it  will  be  when  I'm  ready, 
not  before." 

Lantry's  hatred  flashed  up. 

"If  you  put  up  a  fight,  we'll  drop  you  over 
a  cliff." 

"Well,  you're  going  to  get  the  fight  if  you 
move  any  nearer." 

"Then  I  suppose  we'll  have  to  give  it  up." 

The  big  fellow  cast  a  resigned  look  at  the 
ground,  at  the  men  about  him,  at  the  rock 
against  which  the  cornered  prisoner  stood. 

There  sounded  a  scraping  noise  over  Du- 
kane's  head,  then  a  loud  shout  and  though  he 
strove  to  swerve  on  one  side  a  man's  heavy 
weight  fell  upon  his  shoulders  and  crushed  him. 
At  the  same  time  he  saw  Lantry  and  the  oth- 
ers leaping  towards  him  and  as  he  went  down 
he  savagely  pulled  the  trigger  of  the  automatic. 
Bang — bang — bang — bang,  sounded  joyously 
in  his  ears  as  he  vanished,  buried  under  the 
swarm  of  his  assailants. 

Squirming,  clawing,  kicking,  almost  unable 


THE  COUNTER  STROKE  247 

to  breathe,  utterly  unable  to  see,  he  fought  like 
a  wild-cat.  Once  he  sank  his  teeth  into  a  man's 
arm  and  heard  a  smothered  yell  of  pain  that 
answered  the  tactics;  once  he  got  his  fingers 
in  a  handful  of  hair  and  caused  another  voice  to 
cry  in  anguish.  The  very  fact  that  he  was  at 
the  bottom  of  the  pile  was  a  temporary  ad- 
vantage; he  could  not  be  distinguished  from 
his  enemies  who  pulled  and  hauled  and  pom- 
meled each  other  in  an  endeavor  to  reach  him. 

Suddenly  the  heap  burst  apart,  while  the 
men  shouted  with  fresh  alarm.  The  crushing 
weight  was  lifted,  and  alert  for  this  very  thing 
he  sprang  to  his  feet  disheveled,  dirty,  torn, 
one  cheek  bleeding.  Then  the  cause  of  the 
disruption  was  apparent.  Enid  Crofton  com- 
ing upon  the  summit  had  perceived  the  melee 
and  guessing  who  was  its  storm-center  had 
charged  full  speed  into  the  mass  with  her  pony. 
Right  and  left  she  struck  viciously  with  her 
quirt,  while  the  horse  cut  more  than  one  body 
with  his  sharp  hoofs  as  he  snorted  and  pawed 
in  fear. 

The  rout  was  complete.  Dukane  still 
clutched  his  revolver,  glaring  fiercely  about. 
One  man,  he  saw,  limping  painfully  towards 
the  shelter  of  some  trees,  another  crawled  groan- 


THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

ing  to  one  side,  with  his  hip  soaked  black  with 
blood  where  a  bullet  had  found  its  mark;  and 
others  moved  angrily  about  rubbing  portions 
of  their  bodies  where  whip  or  hoof  had  hit. 

Lantry  was  beside  himself  with  rage. 

"Come  back,  you  curs!  Are  you  going  to 
give  up  now  when  he's  shot  your  mates?"  he 
shouted,  in  an  effort  to  collect  his  followers  for 
another  sortie. 

Dukane  slipped  fresh  shells  into  his  weapon. 

"Try  it  on,  we're  waiting  for  you,"  Dukane 
taunted  belligerently. 

But  the  leader's  commands  met  with  small 
response.  Two  or  three  men  joined  him,  but 
more  than  this  number  he  could  not  win,  and 
when  Jimmy  sent  a  bullet  kicking  up  dirt  at 
their  feet,  even  the  braver  portion  hurried  to 
withdraw.  The  boy  looked  up  at  Enid  sitting 
her  mount  with  compressed  lips  and  shining 
eyes,  undaunted,  unafraid. 

"Come,  now  is  the  time  to  get  safely  away," 
she  exclaimed. 

"They  won't  try  it  again.  What  a  cour- 
ageous girl  you  are!  I  would  go  through  it 
all  again  to  have  you  here  by  my  side." 

A  rich  flood  of  color  brightened  her  face,  a 
smile  hovered  on  her  lips. 


THE  COUNTER  STROKE  249 

"See,  it's  evening,"  she  pointed  down  upon 
the  plain  where  the  shadows  had  thickened, 
then  directed  her  gauntleted  hand  towards  a 
horseman  who  was  ascending  the  road  from 
Tunneltown.  "Someone  is  coming.  Follow 
me,  I  don't  want  to  be  seen  in  this  melodra- 
matic position.  Along  the  ridge  a  little  way 
is  a  path  that  will  take  us  down  into  the  basin 
without  our  running  into  any  of  those  men 
again." 

She  touched  heel  to  the  pony  and  it  started 
off  at  walk  along  the  crest  of  ridge  which  lay 
westward.  Soon  they  were  out  of  sight  and 
hearing  of  the  scene  so  lately  enacted,  the  spot 
blotted  out  by  the  pines  and  brush. 

"You  were  not  hurt?"  she  inquired,  all  at 
once  anxious. 

"No,  I  enjoyed  it." 

"But  there's  a  cut  on  your  cheek.  It's  still 
bleeding." 

"That's  nothing.  A  heel  of  one  of  the  men 
planted  itself  there;  for  awhile  I  thought  it 
would  never  be  off." 

"Come  nearer,"  she  ordered,  drawing  rein. 
She  bent  over  and  inspected  the  cheek.  "It's 
swelling.  What's  more,  I  believe  that  left  eye 
is  turning  black-and-blue." 


250        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

"What,  again!"  Jimmy  cried,  in  disgust. 
"Why,  it's  only  a  little  while  since  I  got  over 
it's  being  black  before.  I  wish  you'd  walk  in- 
stead of  riding ;  I  don't  like  long-distance  con- 
versation." 

Laughing  her  consent  she  dismounted,  lead- 
ing the  pony  behind  her. 

"How  did  this  all  happen?  I  thought  they 
were  surely  killing  you.  For  a  moment  I 
worked  to  kill  them  all;  it  was  so  unfair,  so 
many  against  one." 

"I  kept  them  pretty  busy  nevertheless," 
Jimmy  answered  jauntily.  "One  or  two  of 
them  are  carrying  lead." 

"Don't  speak  in  that  dreadful  fashion. 
Will  they  die?" 

"Oh,  no.  The  bullets  hit  them  low,  because 
I  didn't  have  time  to  aim  when  I  went  down. 
I  just  pulled  the  trigger  on  the  chance  that 
some  of  them  would  be  in  range,  but  most  of 
the  bullets  went  into  the  ground." 

"Two  are  enough,"  said  she.  "The  man  had 
climbed  over  the  rock  and  was  dropping  on  you 
when  I  came  in  sight.  Tell  me  who  wrote  that 
note;  I  didn't." 

Jimmy  halted,  so  did  she.  He  faced  her 
for  a  moment  in  silence  deliberating  whether 


THE  COUNTER  STROKE  251 

or  not  to  tell  her  his  full  suspicions.  To  accuse 
any  man  of  perpetrating  such  a  plot  was  in- 
deed to  make  a  grave  charge. 

"Tell  me,"  she  cried,  impatient. 

"I  think  it  was — the  man  we  agreed  not  to 
discuss." 

"Mr.  Corbetson!" 

"Yes." 

"But  that—"  She  broke  off  and  biting  her 
lip  under  the  stress  of  excitement  which  this 
suggested  infamy  awakened  gazed  at  him  with 
round  eyes.  That  a  man  who  held  the  position 
of  importance  and  trust  which  the  chief  en- 
gineer did  could  descend  to  such  a  depth  of 
villainy,  that  the  man  whom  she  had  enter- 
tained under  the  same  roof  and  at  the  same 
table  with  this  boy  could  conceive  of  such 
treachery,  seemed  to  bring  her  to  the  brink  of 
an  abyss. 

"That  would  be  horrible,"  she  whispered. 

"Mr.  Corbetson  and  I  are  engaged  in  a  little 
private  war.  Still  I  never  supposed  he  would 
dare  to  try  such  a  desperate  move.  He's  after 
me,  that's  certain." 

"But  he  placed  you  in  the  store,  he  lets  you 
remain  by  his  side.  It  is  incredible." 

Jimmy  looked  about  until  he  found  a  stone, 


252        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

then  seated  himself,  for  the  fatigue  of  his  one- 
sided struggle  was  beginning  to  make  itself 
known  in  his  legs. 

"Mr.  Corbetson  wouldn't  shed  a  single  tear 
if  I  disappeared  from  Silver  Peak  Basin,"  he 
stated,  "or  if  my  crushed  body  were  found  at 
the  bottom  of  some  cliff.  Unfortunately  for 
his  schemes,  I  know  too  much  of  what  he's  at- 
tempting; I  hold  his  reputation,  his  future,  in 
my  hand."  Jimmy  held  out  one  soiled  hand 
by  way  of  illustration.  "The  man  is  desper- 
ate, that's  all.  I  don't  know  by  proof,  except 
that  Lantry  admitted,  that  he  was  at  the  bot- 
tom of  this  trick,  but  I  know  in  my  heart  that 
he  was  the  originator  of  it,  with  these  men  for 
his  tools.  Lantry  believing  that  he  had  cap- 
tured me  said  Corbetson  had  employed  them  to 
run  me  out  of  the  country,  but  Lantry  would 
never  have  let  it  stop  with  that,  for  he  hated  me 
too  much.  And,  mark  my  words,  that  was  ex- 
actly why  Corbetson  hired  him !" 

Conviction  slowly  showed  itself  upon  her 
countenance.  She  turned  and  gazed  off 
through  the  boughs  at  the  low  buildings  of  the 
camp,  barely  visible  now  in  the  purple  mist  that 
filled  the  valley.  An  involuntary  shudder 


THE  COUNTER  STROKE  253 

shook  her  frame,  for  a  spirit  of  tragedy  all  at 
once  had  invaded  her  peaceful  home. 

She  faced  about  swiftly.  "I'm  sorry  that  I 
ever  quarrelled  with  you  about  him,"  she  said. 
"I  supposed  him  honorable  and  worthy.  How 
can  such  men  exist,  deceiving  the  world  and 
plotting  trouble!" 

"He  won't  deceive  it  much  longer,  believe 
me,"  Dukane  answered  with  emphasis. 

"But  he  won't  stop  now,  he  will  resort  to 
even  more  desperate  measures  to  harm  you. 
You  must  go  away,  you  must  go  at  once. 
These  men  will  do  everything  in  their  power 
to — who  knows? — perhaps  kill  you." 

"I  stay  right  on  the  job,"  Jimmy  spoke  this 
time  with  vehemence  rather  than  emphasis. 

She  came  nearer,  "Won't  you  go  for  me?" 

"One  of  the  reasons  I'm  staying  is  because 
I  love  you."  He  rose  to  his  feet.  "That  scoun- 
drel loves  you  too  and  I  don't  intend  that  he 
shall  insult  you  by  telling  you  of  his  love." 

Her  bosom  began  to  rise  and  fall  with  the 
stress  of  emotion  which  mastered  her ;  her  eyes 
fastened  themselves  on  his.  A  sudden  realiza- 
tion of  what  it  would  have  meant  to  her  had 
anything  happened  to  him  in  the  struggle  at 


254        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

the  rock,  what  it  would  mean  if  she  should  lose 
him  in  the  future,  stirred  her  inmost  nature. 
Ever  since  she  had  followed  the  impulse  when 
she  kissed  him  in  the  store  he  had  filled  her 
mind  with  an  invisible  presence. 

."Jimmy,  Jimmy,  it  would  break  my  heart  if 
harm  came  to  you,"  she  cried. 

"I  will  not  leave  you  now  or  ever,"  he  an- 
swered, with  voice  grown  inexplicably  husky. 

Somehow  their  hands  met;  the  next  instant 
she  was  in  his  arms  and  his  lips  warm  on  hers. 
All  the  world  seemed  to  stand  still  for  them  in 
a  glorious  pause,  all  they  knew  was  that  their 
hearts  were  united  and  that  a  deep  and  pro- 
found happiness  enwrapped  them. 

Over  the  earth  a  faint  breath  of  air  stirred, 
shaking  the  needles  of  the  pines  and  the  leaves 
of  the  aspens,  passing  with  a  whispering  voice 
that  seemed  the  hushed  utterance  of  the  mil- 
lions of  lovers  who  had  gone  before.  In  the 
west  the  majestic  peak  of  the  lofty  moun- 
tain gazed  down  upon  them  in  vast  calm  and 
content.  It  was  as  if  the  universe  had  been 
designed  for  this  one  moment — wood,  water, 
earth  and  stars — and  expressed  its  perfection 
at  the  instant  their  lips  met  and  their  souls 
united.  Somewhere  off  on  the  hillside  a  bird 


THE  COUNTER  STROKE  255 

poured  forth  a  golden  flow  of  melody  which 
ended  in  a  single  note  of  exquisite  sweetness. 

At  last  they  went  on  hand  in  hand,  the  pony 
stepping  slow  after  his  mistress,  and  presently 
they  turned  aside  to  follow  a  path  which  wound 
and  twisted  down  the  hillside. 

"I  don't  know  who  you  are,  Jimmy.  I  have 
suspected  for  a  long  time  that  Hemple  isn't 
your  name,"  Enid  said,  a  little  wistfully,  "but 
you  will  tell  me  in  your  own  good  time.  All  I 
care  about  is  that  we  love  each  other,  that  I 
trust  you." 

"Sweetheart,  I'll  tell  you  my;  real  name 
now." 

"Not  if  you  don't  wish  to  for  the  present. 
'Jimmy'  is  enough  to  satisfy  me — I  will  even 
love  you  just  the  same  if  your  true  name  is 
Hempledink,  as  you  once  told  me." 

Jimmy  laughed  aloud  in  sheer  joyousness. 
Her  love  could  surmount  even  such  a  cogno- 
men. 

"There's  no  reason  in  the  world,"  said  he 
"why  you  shouldn't  know  it — only  I  will  ask 
you  to  tell  no  one  until  I  settle  a  certain  mat- 
ter." 

"Of  course,  I'll  do  whatever  you  wish." 
And  she  pressed  his  fingers  tenderly. 


256        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

"My  name  is  Dukane — James  A.  Dukane, 
Jr." 

If  he  had  expected  an  expression  of  surprise 
to  escape  her  lips  at  this  announcement  he  was 
destined  to  suffer  disappointment.  She  con- 
tinued to  descend  the  path  for  a  time  in  silence. 
At  last  she  said: 

"That  is  much  finer  than  Jimmy  Hernple- 
dink,"  she  gave  a  low  delicious  ripple  of  laugh- 
ter. "Oh,  it  would  cost  my  pride  something 
to  have  had  to  bear  such  a  name.  But  Du- 
kane— yes,  that  is  ever  so  much  better." 

From  the  hillside  the  path  led  forward  until 
it  joined  the  road  some  space  ahead.  Here 
they  paused  to  look  back  at  the  ridge  and 
speculate  upon  what  had  become  of  the  men, 
those  wounded  and  those  unhurt.  But  they 
could  see  nothing;  darkness  was  settling  rap- 
idly, overhead  stars  sprinkled  the  sky  and  only 
in  the  west  the  light  still  remained. 

"Take  care  of  yourself,  Jimmy,  take  care  of 
yourself,  for  now  you're  mine,"  she  said,  hold- 
ing fast  to  him  when  they  prepared  to  sepa- 
rate before  the  ranch  house.  "For  you  are  mine 
now,  Jimmy  A.  Dukane,  junior.  It  seems  as 
if  I  almost  knew  that  name,  as  if  I  had  heard 


THE  COUNTER  STROKE  257 

it  before.     But  take  care  of  yourself  and  come 
back  to  me." 

Next  instant  her  arms  were  about  his  neck, 
her  parting  kiss  on  his  lips.  Then  she  was 
gone. 


CHAPTER   XII 

A   COUNCIL   OF   WAR 

doctor,  the  two  assistant  engineers  and 
A  the  newspaper  correspondent  sat  about 
nine  o'clock  in  the  physician's  office  playing 
bridge.  In  the  three  former  the  reporter  had 
found  congenial  company  and  had  in  turn 
proved  himself  since  his  arrival  an  acceptable 
fourth  at  the  game. 

"Make  it  hearts,"  Leschelles  announced. 

"Double,"  Satterfield  stated,  slowly  scan- 
ning his  hand. 

"I'm  stung  again,  I'll  bet,  unless  the  dummy 
is  good  and  fat,"  the  freckle-faced  junior  said. 
"Here  goes."  And  he  led  out. 

When  the  hand  was  half-finished,  an  inter- 
ruption came  in  the  form  of  a  knock  on  the 
door. 

"Damn  it,  who's  got  tHe  stomach-ache  now?" 
the  little  round  doctor  exclaimed,  as  he  rose. 

No  one,  it  appeared,  was  subjected  to  the 
ailment  which  he  had  anathematized.  Dukane 

•M 


A  COUNCIL  OF  WAR  259 

entered,  followed  by  Kendle  whom  he  intro- 
duced around. 

"Go  ahead  with  the  game,  and  don't  look 
sour,  Medico,"  he  said,  pleasantly.  "When 
you've  finished  this  rubber,  I'll  take  a  few  min- 
utes of  your  time." 

"You  better  get  back  to  selling  overalls  or 
you'll  lose  your  job." 

"Tut,  tut,  I'm  taking  the  rest  cure." 

The  doctor  resumed  his  seat  and  the  game 
went  forward  with  an  occasional  exchange 
among  the  players  of  satirical  comments  upon 
each  other's  skill.  At  the  conclusion  of  the 
rubber  Dukane  gently  but  firmly  removed  the 
deck  of  cards  from  Satterfield's  fingers,  prefac- 
ing his  act  with  a  laconic  apology. 

"You  come  in  here  and  kick  over  the  kettle 
under  a  man's  own  roof,"  the  doctor  remarked. 
"If  that  isn't  nerve !  Next  thing  you'll  be  try- 
ing to  operate  on  my  patients." 

"That  might  be  worth  while,  I'll  consider  it 
later,  but  look  here,"  Dukane  pulled  his  chair 
forward.  "I'm  here  strictly  on  business  and 
business  that  will  probably  concern  you  all. 
I'm  about  to  send  out  this  message,"  and  draw- 
ing forth  a  folded  telegraph  blank  on  which 
was  written  a  line  he  handed  it  to  the  doctor, 


then  leaning  back  in  his  seat,  he  lighted  a  cigar 
and  awaited  results. 

Doctor  Morrison  read  it,  stood  suddenly  up 
in  his  place  staring  at  the  yellow  sheet. 

"Boy,  you're  mad — insane!"  he  sputtered. 
"For  heaven's  sake  look  at  that,  Satterfield!" 
He  thrust  the  paper  into  the  man's  hand. 

A  great  deal  was  necessary  to  disturb  the 
studious  first  assistant  engineer.  Adjusting 
his  nose-glasses  he  carefully  perused  the  writ- 
ing, read  it  and  then  reread  it;  without  com- 
ment he  passed  the  paper  to  Leschelles  after 
which  he  devoted  himself  to  filling  his  pipe. 
During  this  by-play  the  correspondent  sat 
quiet,  though  watching  with  alert  eyes  all  that 
passed;  for  whatever  concerned  the  youth. 
Hemple,  was  of  interest  to  him  and  he  drank 
in  all  of  the  scene  that  politeness  to  his  host 
made  permissible. 

"Well,  that's  a  funny  skit  to  put  on,"  the 
sandy-haired  Leschelles  said,  uncertain  as  to 
where  the  joke  lay.  "Better  go  easy  on  that." 

Dukane  puffed  his  cigar,  blew  forth  the 
smoke  and  calmly  stated: 

"That  will  be  burning  the  wires  before  morn- 
ing. I  imagine  that  our  friend,  the  journalist, 
would  like  to  hear  it." 


A  COUNCIL  OF  WAR  261 

"But — "  Leschelles  started  to  protest. 

"You  young  devil,  you  dare  not  send  such  a 
fake  as  that!"  the  doctor  cried. 

"Read  it  to  the  man  by  your  side,  Leschelles, 
and  see  what  he  thinks  about  it  as  a  fake." 

Very  soberly  and  in  a  hesitating  voice  the 
second  assistant  engineer  read: 

"  Dukane  and  Company, 

San  Francisco: 

Have  discharged  Corbetson  and  taken  control.  Will 
have  Corbetson  arrested  at  earliest  opportunity  for  em- 
bezzlement and  held  till  sheriff's  arrival. 

JAMES  A.  DUKANE,  JR." 

The  journalist  banged  the  table  with  his  fist, 
looking  about  triumphantly,  while  his  dazed 
companions  turned  their  eyes  on  him. 

"I  knew  it,  I  knew  it !"  he  exclaimed. 

"Knew  what?"  the  doctor  questioned. 

"Why,  that  he's  young  Dukane, — old  man 
Dukane's  son  who  has  been  missing  all  this 
while  and  has  kept  the  police  and  papers  run- 
ning around  in  circles  to  find  him." 

"Him— Hemple?  I  don't  believe  it,"  the 
doctor  stated  with  emphatic  incredulity.  "He 
came  in  here  a  bum." 

Then  he  sat  suddenly  down  wiping  his  brow, 
for  the  sudden  excitement  aroused  by  this  un- 


THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

heard  of  affair,  the  range  of  possibilities  opened 
up  by  the  youth's  expressed  intention  regard- 
ing Corbetson,  had  started  a  fine  dew  of  per- 
spiration upon  his  brow.  For  a  time  no  one 
said  anything.  The  only  sound  was  that  of 
Dukane  softly  riffling  the  edges  of  the  cards 
through  his  fingers ;  the  lamp-light  fell  upon  a 
glass  case  of  instruments  on  one  side  which 
reflected  the  gleams  lustrously;  while  the  men 
remained  in  the  various  postures  in  which  their 
bodies  had  set  upon  the  reception  of  the  news. 
All  were  thinking,  all  inwardly  speculating 
upon  how  this  strange  event,  if  it  should  come 
to  pass,  would  affect  their  various  fortunes. 

"As  the  case  stands,  Hemple  claims  to  be  the 
son  of  James  A.  Dukane,  president  of  the 
Dukane  Company,"  Satterfield  said  finally,  in 
a  measured  voice.  "It  seems  to  me,  with  all 
due  regard  for  Hemple — or  Dukane  junior, 
whichever  he  is — that  the  sending  of  this  tele- 
gram, if  he  does  send  it,  does  not  concern  us; 
on  the  contrary,  it  is  a  matter  resting  solely 
among  the  chief,  the  company  and  the  sender." 

Dukane  straightened  up.  "It  concerns  you 
all  in  this  respect.  I  intend  to  take  possession 
of  the  camp  to-morrow.  What  then?  Will 
you,  can  you  maintain  a  neutral  position  ?  Cor- 


A  COUNCIL  OF  WAR  263 

betson  will  undoubtedly  explode  and  that  is  the 
moment  I'll  need  support." 

Leschelles,  who  now  perceived  the  youth  in- 
vested with  another  personality  even  by  the 
mere  claim  that  he  was  the  son  of  that  vague 
but  powerful  individual,  the  head  of  the  con- 
struction company,  wrinkled  his  brow  in  con- 
centrated thought.  For  him  the  situation 
abounded  with  romantic  features,  dramatic  cir- 
cumstances ;  to  have  an  apparent  hobo,  who  had 
entered  camp  ragged,  mud-covered,  disfigured 
by  a  black  eye,  blossom  forth  after  a  few  weeks' 
sojourn  into  a  dominant  master,  captivated  his 
imagination.  He  had  liked  Hemple ;  now  the 
young  fellow's  prospective  coup  set  his  nerves 
tingling  with  excitement.  But  an  engineer's 
training  teaches  one  to  calculate  all  the  angles. 

"You  say  you're  Mr.  Dukane's  son ;  how  do 
we  know  that  ?"  he  asked  respectfully. 

"Well,  that's  a  pretty  hard  matter  for  me  to 
prove  at  present.  Your  journalist  friend  has 
my  description,  I  imagine,  and — " 

"Know  it  by  heart,"  that  worthy  interrupted, 
"but  here's  the  official  one  which  has  gone  the 
rounds  of  the  country";  he  produced  a  sheet, 
worn  and  creased,  from  his  pocket  and  read 
the  details. 


264        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

"Your  eye,  young  chap,  has  been  mauled 
again  recently — " 

"This  evening." 

"But  otherwise  it  fits.  All  I  want  is  to  see 
your  left  arm  and  the  birthmark  which  is  here 
described." 

Dukane  rose,  removed  his  coat  and  rolled  up 
the  shirt-sleeve  of  his  left  arm.  Just  below  the 
elbow  a  brown  oval  mole  half  an  inch  in  length 
lay  like  a  lozenge  upon  the  white  flesh;  it  tal- 
lied exactly  with  the  designated  birthmark. 

"You  audacious  young  scamp,  you'll  have 
me  really  believing  you're  the  missing  boy — • 
but  of  all  things  under  heaven !"  And  the  doc- 
tor, who  spoke,  turned  first  to  one  guest  and 
then  another  to  interrogate  their  countenances. 

Dukane  waved  his  hand  for  Kendle  to  speak. 
That  gentleman  who  was  placidly  smoking  a 
cigar  nodded. 

"I  think  he's  the  man  he  claims  to  be,"  he 
stated.  "I  don't  know  absolutely,  as  he's  kept 
me  from  investigating  his  claim,  but  in  my  own 
mind  I  am  perfectly  convinced  that  he's  young 
Dukane.  Possibly  my  belief  is  entitled  to 
some  weight;  I  am  the  assistant-manager  of 
the  Corson  Cement  Company,  which  is  one 
company  supplying  cement  for  the  construe- 


A  COUNCIL  OF  WAR  265 

tion  of  this  dam  and  which  consequently  is  an 
interested  party.  It  was  on  his  request  that  I 
came  here.  You  had  best  tell  your  whole  story, 
Dukane.  So  far  as  I  am  concerned,  gentle- 
men, I'm  free  to  say  that  I've  swallowed  it 
whole  and  am  ready  to  lend  him  every  reason- 
able assistance — and  now  that  I've  my  foot  in, 
possibly  some  aid  that  is  unreasonable." 

The  others  echoed  his  suggestion. 

"Is  this  confidential,  or  am  I  at  liberty  to  use 
the  account?"  the  correspondent  demanded, 
whose  fingers  itched  to  have  hold  of  a  pencil. 
"Here  I  am  with  the  beat  of  the  month — and 
I  want  it!" 

"To  be  sure.  Go  ahead,  if  for  nothing  else 
than  compensation  for  your  pertinacity," 
Jimmy  said.  "There's  a  fine  chance  for  you 
now  to  work  up  the  burglar  incident." 

"That  we'll  leave  out." 

Thereupon  Dukane  proceeded  to  narrate  the 
story  of  his  adventures  from  the  time  he  left 
New  York  for  San  Francisco;  his  exchange  of 
telegrams  with  his  father,  his  arrival  at  Melton 
and  his  fight  upon  being  robbed,  his  observation 
of  the  station  agent  mysteriously  at  work  in 
the  freight-car  which  held  the  bags  of  cement, 
his  labor  in  the  camp,  his  clerkship  in  the  store 


266        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

and  finally  the  occasion  and  cause  of  Pennick's 
departure. 

"Here  is  his  confession,"  he  concluded;  and 
tossed  the  paper  upon  the  table. 

The  doctor  rose  and  moved  on  tip-toe  to  the 
door,  which  he  locked,  explaining  over  his  shoul- 
der that  this  affair  had  now  gone  too  far  to  be 
interrupted.  In  order  that  the  paper  might  be 
read  to  best  advantage  he  placed  the  lamp  in 
the  middle  of  the  table  and  adjusted  its  wick; 
the  men  drew  their  chairs  closer,  eagerness  now 
apparent  on  the  faces  of  all.  Satterfield  by 
virtue  of  his  superior  rank  read  the  document 
which  contained  the  evidence  convicting  Cor- 
betson  and  Pennick  of  defrauding  the  work- 
men on  the  one  hand  and  the  Dukane  company 
on  the  other  in  the  conduct  of  the  store.  Ex- 
cept for  the  engineer's  steady  voice,  the  only 
sound  was  the  swift  whisper  of  the  journalist's 
pencil  as  he  transcribed  the  confession  in  short- 
hand. 

"That  is  the  first  indictment,  gentlemen," 
Dukane  stated  in  business-like  tones  at  the  con- 
clusion of  the  reading. 

"Well,  I'm  damned — Corbetson  of  all 
men !"  the  doctor  gasped. 

Kendle's  eyes  twinkled. 


A  COUNCIL  OF  WAR  267 

"My  young  friend  agreed  to  let  Pennick  go 
free,"  he  remarked,  "but  when  I  drove  him  to 
Melton  I  decided  that  a  good  witness  in  the 
hand  is  worth  two  in  the  sagebrush,  so  I  placed 
him  where  I  can  find  him  again  if  necessary." 

"But  I  promised  the  fellow  liberty,"  Jimmy 
frowned. 

"Don't  let  that  worry  you.  Pennick  went 
where  I  wished  of  his  own  free  will — for  a 
money  consideration." 

"And  is  there  more?"  Leschelles  inquired. 

"Yes,  that  which  is  most  important,  that 
which  kept  me  in  Silver  Peak  Basin,  in  fact," 
Dukane  continued.  "First,  I  suspected  some- 
thing curious  because  of  the  station  agent's  ac- 
tion in  changing  the  cement  bags,  then  next  be- 
cause of  the  talk  of  graft  which  was  rife  among 
the  workmen  and  finally  because  of  the  fraudu- 
lent construction  of  the  dam — fraudulent  as 
every  man  who  stops  to  think  must  know  it  to 
be ;  literally  a  hollow  sham.  I  knew  the  Corson 
Cement  Company  would  be  interested  in  know- 
ing why  their  cement  was  put  into  another  com- 
pany's bags,  therefore  I  wrote  them  to  send  a 
man.  Mr.  Kendle  came.  To  him  I  explained 
what  I  had  discovered  and  what  further  I  sus- 
pected. His  company  does  not  like  to  have  its 


268       THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

cement  tampered  with,  so  he  joined  my  in- 
vestigation, indeed,  the  chief  investigation 
has  been  his.  He  will  tell  you  what  he  dis- 
covered." 

Kendle  here  took  up  the  story.  On  leaving 
Melton,  with  Pennick  in  his  charge,  he  had 
gone  to  a  small  city,  a  hundred  miles  west,  and 
from  there  had  wired  to  Dukane  and  Company 
for  the  office  address  of  the  Roseland  Cement 
Company  and  to  his  own  concern  for  the  con- 
tract figures  of  the  amount  of  cement  to  be  sup- 
plied. With  this  information  in  his  possession 
he  had  that  evening  gone  to  Denver,  which  had 
been  forwarded  to  him  as  the  city  in  which  the 
Roseland  Company  had  its  headquarters. 
High  in  one  of  the  lofty  buildings  he  had  lo- 
cated the  offices,  where  a  dapper  youth  talked 
cement  to  him  glibly.  If  he  were  in  the  market 
the  young  manager  stated,  his  company  would 
like  to  bid  on  his  contract;  they  manufactured 
an  especially  high  grade  of  cement.  Where 
were  their  mills  ?  There  were  three,  the  largest 
plant  being  at  Melton,  Nevada.  He  placed  a 
photograph  of  a  magnificent  plant  in  Kendle's 
hands  and  Kendle,  who  knew  cement  companies 
as  he  knew  his  fingers,  recognized  it  as  a  photo- 
graph of  a  celebrated  Texas  company's  mill. 


A  COUNCIL  OF  WAR  .269 

The  youth  also  presented  him  with  samples  of 
Melton  cement. 

"Here  are  the  real  Melton  works,"  Kendle 
concluded,  handing  forth  a  kodak  view  of  the 
ramshackle  building  which  at  Dukane's  sugges- 
tion he  had  examined  and  of  course  found 
abandoned. 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  Corbetson  is  in 
this  swindle?"  Satterfield  asked  quietly. 

"Here  are  the  facts  as  my  own  company 
knows  them.  This  dam  is  supposedly  being 
built  of  solid,  reinforced  concrete.  A  certain 
amount  of  cement  is  required;  the  contract  to 
supply  this  was  divided  between  the  Roseland 
concern  and  our  own,  both  to  provide  cement 
of  a  certain  test.  And  yet  as  you  know  the 
dam  is  not  being  so  built,  is  using  in  fact  but 
one-half  of  the  cement  which  was  bid  for.  Our 
company  is  furnishing  its  full  contract  figure; 
likewise  the  Roseland  Company  is  doing  so,  for 
in  the  information  furnished  me  by  my  people, 
Dukane  &  Company's  San  Francisco  office  has 
regularly  receipted  for,  through  Corbetson, 
definite  shipments  of  Roseland  cement  and 
paid  for  the  same.  That,  gentlemen,  puts  the 
matter  up  to  your  chief.  I'll  be  glad  when  the 
proper  time  comes  for  him  to  explain  many 


270        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

things;  why  the  Roseland  company,  with  a 
fraudulent  rating  in  Bradstreet's  and  with  a 
closed  mill,  yet  makes  cement  and  does  busi- 
ness, why  the  agent  at  Melton  puts  our  cement 
in  Roseland  bags,  why  twice  as  much  cement  as 
comes  into  camp  is  receipted  for,  where  and  by 
whose  hand  false  freight  way-bills  are  made 
and  why  the  dam  is  being  constructed  in  one 
fashion  when  it  is  supposed  to  be  built  in  an- 
other." 

"That's  a  black  case,"  the  doctor  exclaimed, 
his  round  fat  face  the  background  of  many 
emotions.  "Is  that  all?" 

"No,  that's  not  all,"  Dukane  said,  mean- 
ingly. 

And  as  the  final  piece  in  the  puzzle  he  related 
his  suspicion  and  discovery  of  the  real  maps  in 
the  chest  in  the  office.  Satterfield  for  the  first 
time  showed  himself  profoundly  affected;  that 
Corbetson  had  made  him  an  unconscious  assist- 
ant in  a  gigantic  fraud  cut  him  to  the  very 
soul.  He  removed  his  eye-glasses  and  wiped 
and  re-wiped  them.  Leschelles  was  utterly 
swallowed  up  and  could  only  look  blankly  from 
one  speaker  to  another.  Such  perfidy  as  had 
been  here  disclosed  he  had  never  dreamt  of;  it 
all  seemed  above  his  head,  with  himself  a  mere 


A  COUNCIL  OF  WAR  271 

uncounted  atom  kicked  about  at  the  bottom  of 
it. 

"My  bruised  eye  has  been  spoken  of,"  Du- 
kane  went  on.  "Well,  I  came  by  it  as  a  result 
of  this  business.  The  chief  knows  that  I  know 
he  is  guilty ;  he  is  too  cowardly  to  strike  at  me 
himself,  but  to-day  I  found  a  decoy  note 
purporting  to  be  from  Miss  Crofton,  in  which 
it  was  stated  that  she  would  be  riding  on  the 
ridge  this  evening.  I  scribbled  a  line  in  reply 
at  supper  time  and  sent  it  to  her  saying  that  I 
would  come.  When  I  arrived  on  the  ridge 
Lantry  and  eight  men  burst  out  of  cover.  I 
held  them  off  with  a  gun  for  a  while,  but  they 
caught  me  unaware.  Just  as  the  row  was  at 
its  height,  Miss  Crofton  rode  up  and  scattered 
them  with  her  whip  and  pony.  In  other  words 
she  probably  saved  my  life ;  for  Lantry  and  his 
gang  would  have  found  an  excuse  to  kill  me. 
They  did  not  deny  that  Corbetson  was  paying 
them  to  do  the  job.  Well,  that's  how  I  got  my 
black  eye — but  two  of  them  carried  away  bul- 
lets and  they're  no  doubt  in  the  Tunneltown 
camp  now  having  them  dug  out.  There,  you 
have  the  whole  story,  men,  up  to  date." 

"Oh,  this  is  worth  waiting  for!"  the  reporter 
barked  joyously,  writing  with  industrious  pen- 


THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

cil.    "Wait  till  I  work  this  stuff  up,  just 
wait!" 

"It's  too  much  for  me,"  the  doctor  vocif- 
erated, throwing  up  his  hands.  "All  this  go- 
ing on  under  our  noses,  while  we  were  pottering 
around  and  trying  to  rake  up  excitement  play- 
ing bridge!" 

The  others  said  nothing;  this  last  revelation 
was  too  grave  for  unconsidered  discussion.  In 
the  eyes  of  all  of  them  the  figure  of  the  youth 
acquired  a  new  significance ;  and  yet  the  whole 
tale,  the  entire  succession  of  events  from  Du- 
kane's  arrival  at  Melton  to  the  present  moment 
when  he  sat  before  them  with  the  incontrover- 
tible evidence  of  a  late  physical  struggle  upon 
his  face,  the  secret  and  criminal  policy  pursued 
by  the  chief  engineer,  seemed  a  wild  and  pre- 
posterous phantasy  of  some  imaginative  brain, 
which  would  presently  be  dispelled  by  a  sane 
word.  Satterfield  sat  with  his  chin  in  his  hand, 
brooding;  Leschelles  scratched  one  side  of  his 
head  continually,  as  if  he  was  determined  to 
scratch  forth  an  idea  from  his  cropped  sandy 
hair ;  the  doctor  from  time  to  time  fussily  blew 
his  nose. 

"Well,  that's  the  case  I  present  against  Cor- 
betson,"  Dukane  stated,  after  a  lengthy  pause. 


A  COUNCIL  OF  WAR  273 

"The  man's  a  villain  and  a  scoundrel.  To- 
morrow I  take  charge  and  will  keep  charge  un- 
til the  San  Francisco  office  sends  a  representa- 
tive. When  I  dispatch  this  telegram  I  shall 
send  another  to  the  sheriff  of  this  county  at  the 
same  time,  asking  him  to  come  and  arrest  the 
chief.  He  should  be  here  by  night.  But 
meanwhile  what  can  I  count  on  from  you  gen- 
tlemen?" He  looked  about  him. 

"What  can  we  do?"  Leschelles  inquired, 
helplessly. 

"This,  refuse  to  obey  Corbetson." 

"But— but  he's  the  chief!" 

"At  nine  o'clock  I  will  be  in  the  office  chair. 
Will  you,  or  will  you  not,  take  orders  from 
me?" 

Dukane  gazed  at  the  other  young  fellow,  who 
turned  his  look  away  to  Satterfield  as  if  seeking 
an  older  head  to  decide  at  this  parting  of  the 
ways.  The  older  engineer  lifted  his  eyes  and 
as  if  for  the  first  time  seeing  Dukane,  carefully 
regarded  him. 

"It's  a  great  deal  you  ask,"  he  said,  at  length, 
"to  demand  of  us  to  become  insubordinate  to 
our  authorized  superior,  the  man  in  command 
here.  You  have  no  credentials,  you  give  us 
your  sole  unsupported  word  that  you  are  Mr. 


274.       THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

Dukane's  son.  Granted  that  you  are,  how  are 
we  to  know  that  your  action  will  be  endorsed 
by  the  company?  By  your  own  story — and 
pardon  me  the  liberty — by  your  past  record, 
neither  your  father  nor  your  father's  company 
placed  any  particular  confidence  in  you  and 
never  at  any  time  gave  you  authority.  You 
were  ordered  to  come  here  to  inspect  the  work 
and  report  upon  it,  that  and  nothing  more.  Is 
such  not  the  case?" 

"It  is,  but—" 

Satterfield  waved  him  to  silence.  "You  want 
us  to  throw  our  lot  in  with  you  when  you  don't 
even  know  but  that  the  company  will  discoun- 
tenance what  you  do.  That  is  the  way  it  stands 
with  us.  What  further  reason  have  you  to  ad- 
vance why  we  should  join  you?" 

A  warm  flush  mounted  Dukane's  face,  a 
flush  of  resentment,  disappointment,  defeat. 

"I  have  none,"  he  said. 

Again  Satterfield  removed  his  glasses  and 
wiped  them,  carefully  to  place  them  upon  his 
nose.  Suddenly  he  struck  the  table  with 
clenched  fist.  His  lips  were  compressed,  his 
lean  form  taut. 

"I  will  tell  you  the  reason,"  he  explained. 
"Because  a  man  should  be  true  to  the  salt  he 


A  COUNCIL  OF  WAR  275 

eats,  loyal  to  the  money  he's  paid  by,  honest 
to  the  work  he  sets  his  hand  to.  If  I  thought 
the  company  was  building  this  dam  fraudu- 
lently— and  I've  lain  awake  nights,  gentlemen, 
turning  the  thought  over  in  my  mind — I  would 
consider  it  my  duty  to  resign  and  expose  the 
vile  work.  Fraudulent  it  is,  of  that  I  am  now 
convinced.  I  am  sick  of  seeing  the  flimsy, 
veiled  construction  that  is  going  on  here ;  I  had 
already  made  up  my  mind  to  quit.  But  I  am 
now  certain  that  the  company  has  gone  ahead 
in  good  faith.  I  feel  myself  bound  to  no  man, 
even  if  he  is  my  superior,  by  any  cords  of  loy- 
alty when  he  pursues  a  disloyal  and  dishonest 
course.  At  such  a  time  my  loyalty  goes  to  the 
fountain-head ;  I  shall  do  as  I  think  right  with- 
out regard  either  to  reward  or  punishment. 
And  when  I  give  my  allegiance  to  what  I  con- 
sider right,  it  is  no  half-allegiance.  Therefore, 
I  shall  go  the  whole  length — you  can  command 
me,  Mr.  Dukane." 

"Hurray !"  shouted  Leschelles,  "I'm  in  too, 
if  I  never  have  another  job." 

Dukane  was  genuinely  affected  by  this  mani- 
festation of  good-will,  coming  as  it  did  so 
speedily  upon  the  heels  of  what  he  had  consid- 
ered a  refusal,  and  profoundly  affected  by  the 


276        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

engineer's  clean  straight  loyalty  to  his  father's 
company.  Unable  to  speak  for  the  moment  he 
gripped  their  hands  and  shook  them  vigorously. 

"We  shall  stand  or  fall  with  you,  Jimmy, 
my  boy,"  the  doctor  cried,  whose  face  beamed. 

"But  we  won't  fall;  that's  where  your  help 
comes  in,"  Jimmy  answered. 

"If  I  may  offer  a  suggestion — "  the  journal- 
ist interjected  calmly. 

"Shoot  away,  old  man." 

"Keep  your  little  conspiracy  dark  until  some- 
one is  sent  from  the  San  Francisco  office,  after 
which  this  man  Corbetson  can  be  moved  out  in 
good  order." 

For  a  moment  Jimmy  stared  at  him  in  aston- 
ishment. 

"What — and  spoil  my  show!  No  sir," — he 
pounded  the  table  till  the  lamp  rattled  and  the 
doctor  jumped  to  hold  it — "not  on  your  life! 
The  governor  and  the  San  Francisco  office  and 
all  the  rest  of  them  think  I'm  no  good,  that  I'm 
lost,  that  I  can't  eat  without  somebody  putting 
the  spoon  to  my  mouth — I'll  show  'em!  This 
is  my  funeral  and  I  intend  to  run  it  till  the  last 
clod  rattles  on  the  coffin.  When  the  smoke 
clears,  they'll  see  me  sitting  all  serene  on  top 


A  COUNCIL  OF  WAR  277 

the  heap  with  my  nose  in  the  air  inquiring  who 
they  are  and  what  they  want.  More  than  that, 
I  intend  to  sit  there  till  the  dam  is  built  and 
built  right.  After  I've  done  the  rough  work, 
nobody  else  shall  come  in  to  put  on  the  gilt. 
Yes,  sir,  this  is  my  funeral.  James  A.  Du- 
kane,  Sr.,  can  come  in  as  one  of  the  mourners, 
but  that's  all,  as  he'll  find  out  when  I  get  busy 
with  him." 

"Good — good,"  cried  Leschelles,  wriggling 
with  delight.  "But  won't  the  chief  fight  ?" 

"Possibly — probably.  It'll  be  necessary  to 
make  provision  for  that.  He's  in  so  deep  now 
that  he'll  be  apt  to  make  a  final  stroke  to  get 
possession  long  enough  to  destroy  the  papers 
and  whatever  other  evidence  there  is  against 
him.  But  I'll  never  let  him  into  the  office, 
once  he's  turned  out.  What  we've  got  to  look 
out  for  is  Lantry  and  his  gang  of  ruffians. 
Corbetson  will  run  to  them  first  thing.  Come, 
pull  up  to  the  table  and  let  us  lay  a  plan." 

Following  his  example  the  others  drew  up 
their  chairs  for  a  council  of  war.  Now  that 
they  had  enlisted  on  Dukane's  side  they  flung 
themselves  into  the  conspiracy  heart  and  soul. 
Fresh  cigars  were  lighted  and  pipes  filled  anew, 


578       THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

whereupon  they  fell  into  a  discussion  of  the  "if s 
and  ands"  of  the  proposed  upheaval  in  the  gov- 
ernment of  Silver  Peak  Camp. 

"To-morrow  will  be  a  bloody  day  in  our 
country's  history,"  the  correspondent  remarked 
jocosely,  from  the  spot  where  he  had  retired  to 
write  out  in  detail  his  account  of  the  resurrec- 
tion of  Dukane  junior. 

He  would  get  no  sleep  that  night,  he  per- 
ceived, as  he  had  been  instructed  by  Dukane 
that  no  messages  should  be  permitted  to  go  on 
the  wires  at  Melton,  since  these  would  alarm 
the  station-agent,  who  in  turn  would  inform 
Corbetson  of  events  by  telephone.  The  next 
station  west  of  Melton  was  ten  miles  distant 
and  the  prospect  of  a  journey  there  by  night 
not  alluring,  but  his  "great  story"  discounted 
the  obstacles  of  this.  As  soon  as  it  was  written 
he  would  set  out  for  the  place  on  horseback  in 
order  to  be  back  by  morning,  when  he  antici- 
pated further  meaty  copy. 

The  members  of  the  conclave  paid  no  atten- 
tion to  his  joking  comment.  What  Corbetson, 
enraged  by  his  forced  deposal,  made  desperate 
by  discovery  of  his  criminal  course,  would  do 
engaged  their  deepest  consideration.  They 
could  not  agree. 


A  COUNCIL  OF  WAR  279 

"He'll  skip,  if  I  know  the  man,"  the  doctor 
stated. 

"Corbetson's  more  cautious  than  brave,  more 
cunning  than  bold,  but  one  can  never  foretell 
what  any  man  will  do  in  an  extremity,"  Satter- 
field  replied,  "for  one  can  never  know  all  of  the 
conflicting  currents  that  clash  in  the  mind,  or 
choose  those  which  will  finally  determine  him 
upon  a  policy." 

Dukane  looked  about  the  circle. 

"It  really  doesn't  matter  what  the  man  does, 
if  we're  prepared  for  the  worst,"  said  he.  "Let 
us  figure  out  what  the  worst  can  be,  then  make 
ready  to  meet  it." 

"Good  advice,"  Satterfield  approved.  And 
with  a  smile,  he  continued.  "Our  new  general 
is  already  disclosing  elements  of  greatness." 

Thereupon  they  put  their  heads  together  to 
prepare  the  morrow's  campaign. 

As  for  the  man  against  whom  they  conspired, 
he  lay  tossing  on  his  bed  and  gnawing  his  nails ; 
for  Lantry  had  told  him  of  the  failure  of  the 
evening's  attack  upon  the  boy,  told  him  with 
curses  of  the  coming  of  the  girl  and  of  the 
wounding  of  two  of  the  men  by  bullets.  The 
black  devils  that  darkness  conjures  up  in  the 
minds  of  the  guilty  rode  astride  his  soul. 


CHAPTER   XIII 

A  NEW  CHIEF  IN  COMMAND 


more  Dukane  and  his  faithful  servi- 
tor,  Hop  Spencer,  conversed.  The  hour 
was  near  nine  o'clock  of  the  following  morning 
and  as  Jimmy,  leaning  in  apparent  indolence 
upon  a  corner  of  a  showcase,  indulged  in  gentle 
banter  with  his  admiring  minion,  he  neverthe- 
less kept  a  wary  eye  upon  the  office  within  the 
adjoining  half  of  the  building. 

"I'm  about  to  make  you  storekeeper  in  your 
own  right,"  he  addressed  the  cripple,  "raise  you 
up  to  a  position  of  trust,  a  place  of  honor  and 
a  seat  of  power.  In  other  words,  you  shall 
tread  in  the  footsteps  of  your  famous  predeces- 
sors, Pennick  and  Hemple." 

"Me  !  Say,  you  do  like  to  talk  hot  air,  don't 
you?"  Spencer  stated,  without,  however,  any 
note  of  derogation. 

"You  do  me  an  injustice,  Hop.  I  speak 
only  the  truth.  From  now  on  until  the  dam  is 
finished  you  are  the  storekeeper  and  commis- 

280 


A  NEW  CHIEF  IN  COMMAND        281 

sary  with  a  stipend  of  one  hundred  dollars  per 
month." 

"All  right,  I'll  make  a  lovely  merchant,"  the 
other  grinned,  to  carry  on  the  joke. 

Jimmy  crossed  to  where  a  looking  glass 
hung  from  a  shelf  and  examined  his  bruised 
eye ;  it  was  swollen  half  shut  from  the  force  of 
the  boot-heel  which  had  struck  it  and  was  deep 
indigo  in  color.  Fresh  disgust  possessed  him  as 
he  tenderly  fingered  the  optic,  for  by  previous 
experience  he  knew  that  it  would  retain  this 
mourning  color  for  two  or  three  weeks.  In 
truth,  it  caused  him  to  look  both  disreputable 
and  desperate.  Would  Enid  continue  to  love 
him  looking  thus? 

"Tell  me,  Hop,  what  will  reduce  this  swell- 
ing?" he  inquired. 

"Fat  meat — a  piece  of  bacon." 

"That  doesn't  sound  very  nice." 

"It  does  the  business,  that's  the  main  thing. 
Wait  a  minute,  I'll  fix  you  up." 

So  presently  with  a  slice  of  bacon  in  one  hand 
and  a  red  bandana  handkerchief  in  the  other, 
Spencer  proceeded  to  apply  his  remedy  and 
bandage  it  fast. 

"Now,  my  boy,  the  store  will  rest  on  your 
shoulders  to-day,"  Dukane  stated,  briskly.  "I 


282        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

expect  to  be  very  busy  with  other  matters. 
There  will  possibly  be  some  excitement  around 
this  building  and  in  case  it  becomes  too  strong 
lock  the  doors  and  keep  out  of  sight.  Mean- 
while, let  us  see  what  there  is  in  the  way  of  arms 
and  ammunition." 

With  the  wondering  Hop  at  his  heels  he 
made  an  inventory  of  the  aforesaid  class  of 
stock,  with  the  result  that  when  he  concluded 
there  were  gathered  four  Winchester  rifles,  six 
shot-guns,  fourteen  revolvers  and  a  consider- 
able quantity  of  shells  for  the  weapons.  These 
the  two  youths  hid  in  a  handy  place  under  the 
counter  near  the  door  leading  into  the  office, 
heaping  wearing  apparel  on  top  to  conceal 
them  from  sight. 

Fortune  smiled  upon  Dukane.  Perceiving 
that  Corbetson  had  descended  the  slope  to  the 
power  house  and  that  the  auspicious  moment 
for  an  aggressive  move  had  come  he  strode 
across  the  office,  felt  in  his  pocket  to  learn  that 
his  revolver  was  safe,  and  planted  himself  in  the 
revolving  chair  at  the  chief's  desk.  Thus,  eas- 
ily like  many  another  greater  assault  against 
tyrannical  power,  the  first  step  in  the  Silver 
Peak  revolution  was  initiated.  Jimmy  hooked 


A  NEW  CHIEF  IN  COMMAND        283 

his  thumbs  in  the  arm  holes  of  his  vest,  leaned 
back  and  took  a  deep  breath. 

"Now  for  wild  cries  and  gnashing  of  teeth," 
said  he ;  but  as  the  chief  engineer  did  not  at  once 
return  and  his  roving  eye  lighted  on  the  pigeon 
holes  of  the  desk  stuffed  with  papers,  he  expe- 
rienced an  acute  attack  of  curiosity.  Every 
folded  sheet,  every  corner  of  an  envelope,  every 
dog-eared  end  that  pointed  towards  him  seemed 
mysterious  with  hidden  secrets  and  heavy  with 
portentous  facts ;  they  invited  him,  as  a  locked 
cupboard  invites  a  child.  Should  he  or  should 
he  not  read  them?  Ethics  did  not  at  the  mo- 
ment particularly  appeal  to  Dukane;  and  in- 
deed, considering  that  Corbetson  had  conspired 
to  bring  about  if  not  his  death  at  least  his  hurt, 
it  is  to  be  wondered  that  there  rose  in  his  mind 
any  scruples  whatever.  But  they  swiftly  with- 
ered under  the  heat  of  his  indignation  when  he 
recalled  yesterday's  events.  He  lighted  a 
cigar,  pulled  out  the  contents  of  a  pigeon-hole 
and  fell  to  an  examination. 

It  was  half  an  hour  after  this,  when  he  had 
advanced  through  the  reading  of  half  the  desk's 
papers  with  the  result  of  discovering  only  a  few; 
letters  which  seemed  to  cast  an  illusive  light  on 


284        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

the  chief's  schemes,  that  Corbetson  walked  into 
the  office.  Thunderstruck,  he  halted  in  his 
tracks.  Jimmy  took  a  tighter  grip  on  his  cigar 
with  his  teeth  and  gazed  around  at  the  man. 

"Come  in,"  he  said,  "and  have  a  chair." 

"Reading  my  papers !"  the  man  cried  harshly, 
springing  forward. 

Dukane  slipped  his  revolver  forth. 

"Sit  down,"  he  commanded. 

"You  thief,  you  scoundrel — " 

"Sit  down  as  I  tell  you,"  was  the  repeated 
command,  this  time  enforced  by  the  weapon. 
"And  don't  address  those  names  to  me,  Mr. 
Corbetson,  if  you  wish  to  keep  a  whole  skin. 
Go  ahead,  what  do  you  want  to  say?" 

By  now  the  engineer  was  seated,  a  picture  of 
rage  and  baffled  ferocity. 

"What  are  you  doing  here!  I'll  have  you  in 
jail  for  this,  see  if  I  don't." 

Jimmy  removed  his  cigar.  Watching 
closely  to  see  that  the  other  made  no  sudden 
spring  upon  him,  Dukane  reflected  on  how  best 
to  put  his  answer. 

"I  have  taken  charge  here;  you're  out  of  a 
job,  Mr.  Corbetson." 

"You  have — what!"  the  other  half  rose  to  his 
feet. 


A  NEW  CHIEF  IN  COMMAND        285 

"I  think  you  caught  my  meaning.  Here- 
after the  construction  of  the  dam  is  in  my 
hands.  In  order  to  make  the  matter  wholly 
clear  to  you,  I'll  state  that  my  name  is  Dukane, 
Jimmy  Dukane,  son  of  the  president  of  the 
company  of  the  same  name." 

"You  lie,  you  thief!  You're  nothing  but  a 
hobo  and  a  bluffer,  you  came  here  in  rags  and 
mud  and  you'll  leave  the  same  way.  I  don't 
know  what  your  game  is,  but  inside  of  thirty 
minutes  I'll  have  you  locked  up  hard  and  fast." 

"Tut — tut,  sit  where  you  are.  Do  you  think 
you  can  persuade  Lantry  to  try  another  mur- 
der? You  may  not  know  it,  Mr.  Corbetson, 
but  Lantry  told  me  last  evening  when  he 
thought  he  had  me  caught,  that  you  were  the 
man  who  paid  him  to  cut  my  throat." 

At  this  sudden  accusation  the  blood  receded 
from  the  engineer's  face ;  he  glanced  away  from 
the  youth,  then  back  at  him  again. 

"Nothing  of  the  kind,"  he  declared,  finally. 
"What  attack  are  you  talking  about?" 

"Then  there  was  the  decoy  note,  too.  That 
was  rather  crafty  of  you,  for  a  fact,  but  Enid 
Crofton  chanced  to  come  riding  to  the  ridge 
and  spoiled  your  whole  plan.  Mr.  Corbetson, 
I  intend  to  see  you  sent  up  the  road  for  several 


286        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

things,  of  which  this  is  one  of  them.  You,  to 
stoop  to  having  murder  done !" 

A  fresh  access  of  anger  swept  Corbetson. 
"Get  out  of  here,  or  I'll  throw  you  out !" 

"Try  it,"  Jimmy  answered  grimly,  "I  didn't 
hesitate  to  shoot  a  couple  of  your  hired  assas- 
sins last  night,  I  won't  hesitate  to  shoot  you. 
Get  out  yourself — and  keep  out!  You're 
done.  Not  a  paper  leaves  this  desk  or  this  of- 
fice." 

Before  the  sudden  menace  of  the  weapon 
thrust  forward  anew,  the  engineer  shrank 
away,  leaping  to  his  feet  and  retreating  a  step. 
Dukane  also  arose.  But  Corbetson  did  not  de- 
part; the  utter  preposterousness  of  the  event, 
of  Hemple  who  had  been  a  common  laborer 
seeking  to  drive  him  forth  from  what  was 
rightly  his  own,  deprived  him  of  the  power  of 
locomotion. 

"See  here,  Hemple,  are  you  mad?"  he  asked, 
at  last. 

"I'm  sane  enough  to  shoot  straight,  if  that's 
what  you  want  to  know." 

"But  this  is  my  office,  I'm  engineer  here,  am 
in  charge.  You're  joking  to  talk  about  driv- 
ing me  out  of  my  own  place.  Go  back  to  your 
work  in  the  store  where  you  belong  and  be  ra- 


A  NEW  CHIEF  IN  COMMAND        287 

tional.  If  the  camp  learns  that  you're  acting 
in  this  crazy  fashion,  that  you're  not  respon- 
sible, it  will  shoot  you  down  like  a  mad  dog. 
Come,  stop  this  nonsense." 

"Am  I  crazy  when  I  say  you're  defrauding 
the  company  in  the  store?' 

The  chief's  look  became  lowering.  "Enough 
of  that." 

"And  mad  also  when  I  say  you're  swindling 
the  company  in  its  dam  construction?" 

"Tell  that  to  the  camp  and  they'll  certainly 
know  you're  crazy!" 

"But  you  know  differently,  my  friend,  don't 
you?"  Dukane  went  on,  "Just  as  you  and  I 
know  these  maps  that  you  give  Satterfield  and 
Leschelles  are  false,  while  the  true  ones  are 
locked  up  in  the  chest  yonder.  Yes,  you  and 
I  know  just  how  crazy  I  am,  as  we  know  just 
how  guilty  you  are." 

"What  do  you  want  ?" 

"Aha,  you  now  see  a  light  and  are  ready  to 
talk  terms.  What  do  you  offer?" 

"It's  money  you're  after  then — blackmail." 

"That's  not  a  nice  word,  but  let's  hear  what 
you've  got  to  say.  After  what  you  had  Lantry 
try  last  night  I  won't  be  bought  cheap.  And 
besides  you  have  been  making  a  pretty  good 


288        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

thing  out  of  the  store  and  various  other  side- 
lines." 

"I  want  a  day  to  think  this  over." 

"No,  no.  Many  things  might  happen  to  me 
in  a  day.  I  have  no  reason  to  trust  you;  in 
fact,  you'd  eat  my  heart  this  very  minute  if  I 
gave  you  an  opportunity.  There  never  can  be 
much  confidence  between  crooks,  so  I  must 
have  your  answer  at  once." 

Lightning  flashed  from  Corbetson's  eyes  at 
these  insults.  Truly,  had  he  possessed  but  the 
physical  courage  to  defy  the  youth's  weapon, 
he  would  have  rejoiced  to  leap  upon  the  usurper 
and  tear  his  flesh  in  pieces.  Every  word  the 
other  spoke  cut  like  a  knife,  laying  open  his 
villainy,  showing  the  blackness  of  his  soul,  pen- 
etrating to  a  core  of  infamy  which  until  now 
he  never  had  permitted  himself  wholly  to  see. 
Ay,  he  could  have  torn  to  shreds  the  bodies  of 
both  the  boy  and  himself  in  a  bitter  sort  of 
pleasure.  Suddenly,  there  was  a  clutch  at  his 
heart,  a  black  veil  of  dizziness  in  his  brain.  He 
felt  Dukane  catch  him  by  the  arm  and  lead 
him  across  the  room,  then  the  cool  outer  air 
blew  upon  his  face  and  gradually  the  black 
emptiness  passed  away. 

Dukane  stood  in  the  door  looking  out  at  him. 


A  NEW  CHIEF  IN  COMMAND        289 

"That  whiskey's  bad  for  your  heart,"  he  said. 

With  return  of  his  senses  there  came  a  rush 
of  new  rage  to  Corbetson.  He  turned  about, 
he  shook  his  fist  at  the  youth. 

"I'm  not  done  with  you,"  he  exclaimed,  be- 
tween his  teeth.  "Next  time  you  won't  have 
any  come  back.  You  better  skip  while  you've 
a  chance,  for  I'm  going  to  turn  the  whole  camp 
loose  on  you." 

"Going  to  try  and  bite  after  all,  are  you?" 
Dukane  replied.  "Well,  I'm  not  going  to  skip 
and,  further,  I'm  not  done  with  you  by  a  long 
way.  Don't  seek  to  come  into  this  office  again 
— it  won't  be  a  healthy  attempt." 

Without  response  Corbetson  turned  and 
went  swiftly  towards  the  dam. 

Jimmy  did  not  immediately  leave  the  spot 
where  he  stood.  For  glancing  about  after  hav- 
ing delivered  his  ultimatum  and  experiencing 
that  relief  which  comes  upon  the  fixing  of  a  def- 
inite issue,  he  perceived  Enid  Crofton  riding 
towards  him  from  the  west.  At  that  moment 
therefore  nothing  in  Silver  Peak  Basin,  which  is 
as  much  as  to  say  in  the  world,  could  have 
dragged  him  away  from  that  point  of  vantage. 
She  came  forward  at  an  easy  gallop,  riding 
with  the  unconscious  grace  with  which  her  lithe 


290        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

figure  was  endowed.  When  she  observed  him 
in  the  door  she  neck-reined  her  pony  to  the  spot 
and  pulled  up  with  an  abrupt  stop. 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me?"  she  demanded. 

To  see  her  was  in  Jimmy's  mind  the  desire  to 
be  near  her.  He  stepped  forth,  advancing  to 
caress  the  pony's  nose  which  the  animal  thrust 
out  towards  his  hand. 

"Tell  you  what?"  he  inquired. 

"Who  you  are?" 

"I  thought  that  I  did." 

"You  didn't  tell  me  all." 

Jimmy  smiled  up  at  her  with  his  lips  and 
one  unbandaged  eye.  "Won't  you  alight? 
It's  not  very  comfortable  talking  to  one  from  a 
saddle." 

This  statement  seemed  worthy  of  profound 
meditation;  at  least  Enid  appeared  to  turn  it 
over  in  her  mind,  at  considerable  length,  finally 
to  yield,  dismounting  and  letting  the  pony's 
reins  trail.  Her  manner,  however,  was  accusa- 
tory. 

"No,  you  didn't  tell  me  that  you  were  the 
son  of  this  Mr.  Dukane  whose  company  is 
building  the  dam,"  she  announced.  "It  was 
only  after  I  was  alone  at  home  and  was  think- 
ing about  your  name  that  it  flashed  into  my 


A  NEW  CHIEF  IN  COMMAND        291 

mind  that  you  might  be.  I  went  to  papa  and 
asked  him  Mr.  Dukane's  first  name  and  middle 
initial — they  were  the  same  as  yours.  So  I 
knew  you  were  his  son — are  you?" 

"I  am." 

Enid  had  drawn  off  her  gloves ;  she  now  be- 
gan to  slip  them  on  once  more. 

"That  ends  it  then;  I  can  never  marry  you." 

Jimmy  stared  at  her,  unable  to  credit  his 
ears. 

"What!"  he  shouted,  finally.  "Not  marry 
me!" 

"No." 

"Why  not?" 

"I  didn't  know  you  were  the  son  of  a  man 
who  is  immensely  wealthy." 

"What  difference  does  that  make?" 

"A  great  deal." 

"Nonsense,  you're  going  to  marry  me  just 
the  same,  yes,  even  if  I  have  to  disown  the 
governor.  But  stop!"  A  bright  smile  sud- 
denly illuminated  his  countenance.  "That 
isn't  necessary,  for  he's  disowned  me.  So  you 
needn't  worry  about  him,  or  his  money." 

"Then  he  doesn't  love  you." 

"He  fairly  hates  me.  So  we  can  be  married 
at  once." 


292        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

"At  once!"  she  rose  hastily. 

"Well — that  is — when  this  row  is  over." 

Breathlessly  she  inquired  what  "row,"  her 
mind  all  at  once  alert  to  extraneous  matters, 
plied  him  with  questions  and  drew  from  his  re- 
luctant lips  the  statement  that  he  had  deposed 
Corbetson  and  taken  charge  of  the  dam  camp, 
theoretically  if  not  actually,  which  probably 
would  create  a  disturbance. 

"Why  did  you  do  anything  so  bold?"  she  de- 
manded. 

"I  don't  call  bouncing  this  miserable  chief 
anything  very  courageous,  not  him." 

"You  mustn't  be  killed,  Jimmy,"  she  said, 
softly. 

"People  don't  get  killed  in  this  sort  of  an 
affair.  And  anyway  I'll  stay  alive  because  I 
want  to  marry  you." 

As  if  that  were  the  most  conclusive  reason 
in  the  world  he  nodded,  took  her  cheeks  be- 
tween his  hands  and  kissed  her  on  the  lips.  In 
an  ecstasy  of  delight  she  closed  her  eyes,  hardly 
breathing,  unmoving,  losing  herself  in  the  rap- 
ture of  the  moment. 

"I  want  you  just  as  you  are,  just  Jimmy," 
she  said,  afterward,  "Jimmy,  poor,  disowned 
and  with  a  dear  battered  face." 


A  NEW  CHIEF  IN  COMMAND        293 

Jimmy  agreed  to  continue  poor  and  dis- 
owned, but  protested  against  the  maintenance 
of  a  black-and-blue  eye.  Adjusting  the  ban- 
dage which  had  slipped  a  trifle  he  led  her  out  to 
the  pony  which  stood  patiently  awaiting  his 
mistress. 

"And  where  is  Mr.  Corbetson?"  she  half- 
whispered,  when  she  sat  in  her  saddle. 

"Raising  legions." 

She  began  to  tug  at  her  gloves  in  uncertainty. 

"I  don't  know  what  to  do;  I  ought  to  stay 
here  if  anything  is  going  to  happen  to  you." 

"You  must  go  home  and  stay  there,"  he  or- 
dered sternly. 

Glancing  at  him  she  compressed  her  lips 
and  replied  that  she  would  do  what  she  thought 
fit,  with  which  declaration  of  independence  she 
drew  the  pony's  head  about  and  set  off  home- 
ward at  a  foot  pace.  A  sigh  of  relief  escaped 
Jimmy;  he  would  rather  be  with 'Enid  than  any 
other  person  in  the  world,  but  there  were  oc- 
casions when  work  must  be  done,  unpleasant 
work,  and  it  was  best  not  to  have  girls  around ; 
which,  taking  into  consideration  all  the  circum- 
stances of  the  previous  evening  might  have 
been  called  an  egotistical  view. 

On  a  sudden  Dukane  perceived  that  work 


294        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

had  stopped  on  the  dam.  The  men,  small  as 
ants,  streamed  off  the  structure  and  along  the 
road  that  led  back  to  camp.  A  sense  of  ap- 
prehension, a  consciousness  of  impending  cri- 
sis, seized  the  watcher,  as  with  hand  shading 
eyes  against  the  sun,  he  noted  this  unwonted 
occurrence.  Had  Corbetson  indeed  succeeded 
in  raising  the  camp  against  him,  as  the  chief 
had  vowed  to  do?  Jimmy  experienced  a  tin- 
gling down  to  his  very  toes.  But  he  was  not  the 
one  to  be  caught  unprepared,  even  though  the 
prospects  were  dark;  he  ran  to  the  store  and 
bade  Hop  close  and  lock  all  its  doors,  then  he 
retraced  his  steps  to  the  front  of  the  office  where 
he  took  up  his  station  at  the  portal. 

Down  upon  the  slope  below  him  the  laborers 
began  to  arrive,  moving  in  groups  that  mingled 
and  dissolved,  stirred  as  he  could  see  at  even 
so  great  a  distance  by  some  excitement.  In 
their  midst  he  made  out  the  various  persons 
who  might  play  an  important  role  in  succeed- 
ing events:  Corbetson,  Satterfield,  Leschel- 
les,  Casey,  the  time-keeper,  and  others.  As 
the  crowd  drew  near,  the  gang  at  the  mixer 
caught  the  infection,  flung  down  their  shovels 
and  joined  the  concourse. 


A  NEW  CHIEF  IN  COMMAND         295 

Just  at  that  instant  the  reporter  trotted  up 
from  the  west  on  his  jaded  horse. 

"Guess  I'm  in  time,"  he  said,  "and,  I  im- 
agine, just  in  time." 

His  face  was  haggard  from  loss  of  sleep  and 
caked  with  perspiration  and  dust  as  a  result  of 
his  long  ride  to  and  from  the  railroad. 

"Yes,  you're  in  time,"  Dukane  rejoined. 
"I  gave  the  chief  his  walking  papers  as  per 
schedule;  this  is  the  flare-back." 

The  reporter  leaped  down,  thrust  his  hand 
through  the  bridle-rein  and  turned  to  the 
speaker. 

"If  they  crowd  in  too  close,  I'll  pull  the 
horse  across  the  door.  That  will  stop  them  for 
a  moment.  But,  by  Jove,  if  that  whole  bunch 
is  on  the  war-path — "  He  concluded  with  a 
long  whistle. 

"They're  not,  not  all  of  them,  I'll  swear." 

The  workmen  were  now  drawing  near.  In 
the  fore  strode  Corbetson  and  Lantry,  with 
half  a  dozen  of  the  latter's  followers  close  at 
their  heels.  When  they  were  within  ten  paces 
Jimmy  jerked  forth  his  revolver  and  ordered 
them  to  stop. 

"You,  Corbetson— and  you,  Lantry, — I'll 


296        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

drop  you  both  in  your  tracks  if  you  make  a 
move  towards  me." 

"And  so  will  I,"  a  shrill  voice  called  over 
Jimmy's  shoulder. 

Hop  Spencer  stood  in  the  door  holding  a 
Winchester. 

"Now,  Casey,  speak  up  for  these  men,"  Du- 
kane  said.  "What  is  the  meaning  of  this  dem- 
onstration?" 

The  timekeeper  thus  addressed,  grinned, 
"The  chief  says  you  threw  him  out." 

"Right  you  are." 

"And  I  always  said  you'd  come  into  trouble, 
ye  fightin'  spalpeen." 

Jimmy  raised  a  hand. 

"The  Irish  never  loved  a  man  less  because 
he  enjoyed  fighting.  Do  you  know,  Casey, 
and  you  others,  why  I  threw  out  your  chief? 
I  will  tell  you.  Because  in  the  first  place  my 
name  is  Dukane,  and  Dukane  and  Company 
fires  any  man  it  wants  to  who  works  for  it. 
Next,  this  black  scoundrel,  Corbetson,  has  been 
robbing  you  in  the  store  by  selling  you  pants 
and  tobacco  at  two  prices  instead  of  one. 
Hereafter  your  pants  will  cost  you  no  more 
than  they  should  cost  any  honest  man.  Let 
the  chief  stand  by  and  deny  it  and  I  will 


A  NEW  CHIEF  IN  COMMAND        297 

read  a  paper  to  you  that  Pennick  wrote  and 
signed  before  he  went  away  in  which  he  tells 
just  how  he  and  Corbetson  fixed  the  game  to 
skin  you  out  of  your  hard-earned  dollars,  put- 
ting the  same  in  their  own  pockets — " 

"Don't  you  believe  him!"  Corbetson  shouted, 
interrupting  him,  "It's  all  a  lie — a  lie!  He's 
no  more  Dukane  than  I  am,  and  your  pants 
were  sold  for  cost." 

A  wild  hub-bub  of  voices  broke  forth,  men 
shouting,  exclaiming,  calling  to  one  another. 

"What  is  all  this?"  Casey  at  last  demanded, 
when  the  noise  died  down. 

"Just  what  I  said.  Not  only  that,  but  I've 
others  who  know  the  truth — the  chief's  own  en- 
gineers, the  doctor — " 

Corbetson  made  a  fierce  gesture. 

"Satterfield — Leschelles!  You  dare  not  let 
this  young  fool  and  scoundrel  deceive  you!" 

But  the  two  engineers  walked  forth  to  the 
spot  where  Dukane  stood.  Satterfield  care- 
fully wiped  his  eye-glasses. 

"Men,  so  far  as  Mr.  Leschelles,  the  doctor 
and  I  are  concerned,  we  stand  with  young  Du- 
kane here,"  said  he.  "Though  he  came  into 
camp  looking  like  a  hobo,  yet  he's  the  son  of 
the  president  of  the  company." 


298       THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

Corbetson  stared  at  the  speaker;  his  face 
went  white  and  he  clenched  his  palms.  But 
the  next  instant  he  fiercely  rejected  the  notion 
that  such  a  catastrophe  as  this,  that  the  boy 
could  indeed  be  Dukane's  son,  had  befallen  him. 

"It's  false — and  you're  all  in  the  plot." 

Jimmy  looked  at  him  coldly,  then  once  more 
addressed  the  laborers. 

"This  is  an  affair  that  doesn't  concern  you, 
men,  except  that  hereafter  you  can  buy  stuff 
for  half  what  you've  been  paying,"  he  stated. 
"Mr.  Corbetson  and  I  will  settle  our  business 
between  ourselves.  All  you  have  to  do  is  keep 
working." 

One  yelled  to  know  if  they  should  be  paid. 

"Not  only  paid,"  their  new  and  youthful 
chief  responded,  "but  beginning  this  morning 
every  man  gets  a  raise  of  twenty-five  cents  a 
day." 

Sudden  and  heavy  silence  reigned  for  an  in- 
stant, then  as  if  from  one  throat  there  burst 
a  mighty  shout.  The  crowd  buzzed  like  a 
swarm  of  bees  and  with  a  final  hurrah  turned 
and  swept  downward  towards  the  dam,  laugh- 
ing, shouting  and  sweeping  Corbetson  and  his 
few  silent  supporters  along  with  them  in  their 
jovial  rush. 


A  NEW  CHIEF  IN  COMMAND        299 

"That  clever  bit  of  financial  diplomacy  ends 
the  matter,"  the  reporter  said. 

"On  the  contrary,  it  only  begins  it,"  Satter- 
field  replied. 


CHAPTER   XIV 

THE  SKIRMISH 


the  noon  hour  Satterfield,  Les- 
chelles  and  Dukane  remained  with  their 
heads  together  in  the  office.  The  chest,  whose 
locks  had  been  forced,  gave  up  the  maps  which 
it  had  concealed  and  the  three  men  were  busily 
employed  in  comparing  the  false  sheets  with 
the  true. 

"No  wonder  he's  crazy  to  regain  possession 
here,"  the  sandy-haired  second  assistant  ex- 
claimed indignantly,  "with  all  this  evidence 
against  him  still  in  existence,  besides  what  may 
be  in  that."  And  he  pointed  at  the  safe  which 
remained  closed,  since  the  combination  was  un- 
known to  any  except  Corbetson.  "Even  some 
of  the  money  he's  stolen  through  his  tricks  may 
be  locked  up  inside  it,  which  he'd  naturally 
want  to  get  before  he  skipped  the  country." 

"Unless  he  has  sent  it  away  to  some  secret 
bank  account  that  he  carries,"  Satterfield 

300 


THE  SKIRMISH  301 

vouchsafed.  "The  fortunate  thing  about  it  all 
is  that  you  unmasked  the  fellow,  Dukane,  be- 
fore he  reaped  the  full  profit  of  his  rascally 
cement  scheme.  He  was  just  getting  fairly 
started.  The  foundation  of  the  dam  is  solid 
enough  and  built  according  to  honest  construc- 
tion— he  did  not  dare  to  begin  his  flimsy  work 
until  the  forms  were  above  the  surface  of  the 
stream ;  that  would  have  been  too  outrageously 
criminal.  We'll  have  to  clean  out  what  rub- 
bish has  since  been  dumped  into  the  shell  and 
reconstruct  those  parts." 

"Of  course,"  Dukane  said.  "Begin  at 
once." 

"It's  good  to  know  that  we're  working  on 
the  square  at  last,"  Leschelles  said,  heartily. 
"We'll  tear  that  rotten  stuff  out  in  a  hurry." 

For  perhaps  fifteen  minutes  more  they  ex- 
amined, compared  and  calculated  over  the 
maps,  when  Casey,  the  time-keeper,  and  Calla- 
han,  who  had  lost  his  arm  in  the  mixer  and 
whom  Dukane  had  succeeded  as  boss  of  the 
mixing-gang,  burst  in  upon  them. 

"The  devil's  to  pay!"  Casey  cried,  his  eyes 
ablaze.  "They've  set  a  barrel  of  free  whiskey 
over  yonder  in  a  ravine,  spread  the  word  in 
camp  an'  the  boys  are  goin'  to  it  like  flies  to 


302        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

sugar.  It's  under  the  belt  they're  hittin'  ye, 
Jimmy." 

Dukane  and  the  engineers  rushed  to  the 
door.  Men  moved  by  twos  and  threes  away 
from  the  camp  along  the  base  of  the  ridge  to- 
wards where  a  gully  screened  by  bushes  and 
trees  creased  the  hillside  two  hundred  yards 
distant.  Some  of  the  men  walked  leisurely, 
masking  their  purpose  under  an  air  of  casual 
strolling;  some  went  with  hunched  shoulders, 
shamefacedly  casting  surreptitious  glances 
back  at  the  camp;  while  bolder  spirits,  casting 
aside  all  pretense,  moved  straight  ahead,  jok- 
ing and  laughing  aloud.  But  that  a  definite 
idea  dominated  them  all,  that  each  sought  the 
same  goal,  was  apparent  as  they  converged 
upon  the  mouth  of  the  little  ravine.  About  the 
door  of  one  of  the  bunk-houses  thirty  or  forty 
men  loitered,  these  the  steadier  workmen  for 
whom  liquor  had  no  attraction. 

"Whisper  whiskey  to  that  bunch  of  work- 
easys  and  they  forget  all  about  an  increase  in 
pay,"  Callahan  growled,  jerking  his  thumb  to- 
wards the  deserters. 

"Yes,  and  half  an  hour  from  now  it's  a  howl- 
ing mob  of  wolves  we'll  have,"  Casey  supple- 
mented. 


THE  SKIRMISH  303 

"Do  you  think  they'll  make  trouble?"  Jimmy 
asked,  anxiously. 

"And  for  why  not?  What  did  ye  think 
Lantry  and  Corbetson  haled  a  barrel  of  whis- 
key in  a  wagon  from  Tunneltown  for  if  not 
to  give  ye  a  warm  entertainment.  When  that 
scum  is  crazy  drunk,  they'll  do  anything — 
smash  things  for  choice." 

Jimmy  looked  at  the  gully,  then  at  the  work- 
men who  remained. 

"Could  we  run  them  off?" 

"Could  we  run  off  a  herd  of  thirty  cattle 
from  water?  They  would  give  their  lives  for 
that  whiskey,  now  their  noses  smell  it.  Be 
wise  and  let  'em  be — but  get  ready,  say  I. 
I've  seen  a  camp  or  two  wrecked  by  whiskey 
in  me  time." 

"Sure,  ye  can't  stop  'em  now,  except  with  a 
whole  army — and  maybe  not  so,"  Callahan  cor- 
roborated. 

At  that  instant  the  one  o'clock  whistle  blew. 
In  answer  there  came  a  faint,  derisive  shout 
from  the  gully.  Jimmy  gazed  hard  in  that  di- 
rection, his  jaw  hard  and  his  lips  set ;  for  he  was 
exceedingly  angry  and  exceedingly  determined 
— angry  that  Corbetson  had  stolen  a  march  on 
him,  though  suspecting  that  the  inspiration  for 


304        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

the  plan  was  Lantry's,  determined  to  deal  with 
the  traitorous  crew  in  lusty  fashion.  Recollec- 
tion of  his  short-lived  triumph  came  to  torment 
him. 

"Call  up  those  fellows,"  said  he,  nodding  to- 
wards the  workmen  before  the  bunk-house,  who 
were  in  quandary  whether  or  not  to  proceed  to 
their  customary  labor. 

Casey  raised  a  shout,  calling  them  to  the  of- 
fice and  presently  they  stood  before  the  door 
in  an  expectant  group.  In  hot,  short  sentences 
Jimmy  expressed  his  opinion  of  the  deserters, 
then  poured  a  stream  of  praises  upon  his  listen- 
ers for  their  loyalty.  Would  they  stand  by 
him  through  thick  and  thin,  or  would  they  not  ? 
That  was  what  he  wanted  to  know.  If  they 
did,  they  should  receive  ten  dollars  a  day  until 
order  was  restored,  or  if  hurt  in  the  row  which 
would  probably  come,  until  they  were  well. 
He  did  not  want  men  who  would  quit  in  a 
pinch,  but  who  would  fight  till  Lantry  and  his 
gang  were  whipped.  He  was  now  hiring  them 
to  fight  and  not  to  work — and  let  those  who 
were  ready  sign  their  names  on  a  paper,  so 
it  would  be  known  who  earned  the  money.  Be- 
sides, whoever  backed  him  up  now,  should  af- 
terwards receive  a  dollar  a  day  more  on  his 
wages  as  long  as  he  worked  on  the  dam. 


THE  SKIRMISH  305 

"Pass  round  the  roll  of  honor,  Casey,"  he 
concluded,  much  satisfied  with  his  extemporan- 
eous oration. 

A  cheer  greeted  his  offer.  The  men 
crowded  eagerly  forward  to  sign  under  so  lav- 
ish a  patron.  Satterfield,  who  had  looked  on 
in  grave  silence,  turned  to  his  young  chief,  re- 
garding him  quizzically. 

"You're  prodigal  of  promises,"  he  said. 

"I  heard  my  father  once  say  never  to  count 
pennies  in  a  crisis,  besides  I'm  not  paying  the 
bill  myself." 

"Will  the  company  pay  it,  I  wonder?" 

"They  will,"  Jimmy  answered  decisively, 
"even  if  I  have  to  club  them  into  it." 

Half  an  hour  later  the  youth's  cohort  sat  on 
the  ground  in  front  of  the  office,  forty-two  in 
number,  each  armed  with  a  stout  axe-helve  or 
shovel-handle  drawn  from  the  company's  sup- 
plies. Callahan,  Casey  and  Miller,  the  chief 
teamster,  who  had  been  appointed  to  act  as 
leaders,  from  time  to  time,  gave  them  advice 
upon  the  advantage  of  sticking  together  and 
fighting  in  close  order.  Within  the  office 
were  gathered  the  others — Satterfield  and  Les- 
chelles,  Kendle,  the  doctor,  Hop  Spencer,  the 
reporter,  and  Dukane.  As  they  talked  the  dis- 
tant shouts  and  yells  which  had  begun  to  arise 


306        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

from  the  gully,  making  plain  that  the  liquor 
was  working  on  the  hundred-odd  drinkers, 
were  borne  through  the  open  door  upon  the 
light  southern  breeze  to  their  ears. 

The  danger-points — for  danger  points  they 
would  unquestionably  become  once  Corbetson 
and  Lantry  succeeded  in  infecting  the  men 
with  their  own  desperate  spirit — would  be  the 
office,  the  engine-house,  and  the  powder-house. 
While  the  office  would  be  the  former  chief's 
main  goal,  the  drunken  mob  of  workmen  would 
undoubtedly  seek,  if  baffled,  to  destroy  what- 
ever part  of  the  plant  they  conceived  to  be 
most  susceptible  of  damage.  Any  serious 
breakage  in  the  power-,  mixing-,  or  stone-crush- 
ing machinery  would  cause  infinite  labor  to  re- 
pair and  long  delay.  The  stone-crusher,  off 
across  the  basin  and  away  from  the  camp,  had 
a  crew  and  bunk-house  of  its  own  and  to  judge 
by  the  steady  muffled  rumble  sounding  steadily 
from  that  direction  its  men  as  yet  knew  noth- 
ing of  the  revolution  going  on  at  the  dam.  It 
would  have  to  take  its  own  chance,  for  to  dis- 
patch thither  a  portion  of  the  small  force  wait- 
ing before  the  door  would  be  only  to  divide  the 
troop  and  invite  complete  disaster.  As  for  the 
engine-house, — at  that  very  instant  in  walked 


THE  SKIRMISH  307 

the  engineer,  grimy  and  oil-splashed.  He  had 
come  for  information,  he  explained,  and  to  ask 
if  the  fires  should  be  kept  going  or  be  banked. 

"If  it's  only  them  drunken  hoboes,"  said  he, 
when  the  situation  had  been  made  clear,  "leave 
them  to  me.  I'll  attach  a  two-inch  hose  to  the 
boiler  and  the  first  head  that  shows  at  a  window 
will  get  his  hair  scalded  off.  Sure,  boiling 
water's  the  stuff — I  hope  they  come."  With 
which  declaration  he  betook  himself  back  to  the 
engine-house  to  put  his  peculiar  artillery  in 
order. 

"And  it's  him  will  do  it  too,"  Casey  grinned, 
who  had  been  listening  at  the  door. 

A  period  of  inaction  followed.  The  com- 
pany of  defenders  who  had  rallied  to  Dukane's 
standard  lay  before  the  office  in  all  the  postures 
of  sprawling  ease.  They  joked  among  them- 
selves, grown  lively  at  the  prospect  of  a  melee ; 
they  indulged  in  horse-play,  rapping  each  other 
upon  the  shoulders  with  the  staves  they  carried 
or  poking  neighbors  in  the  ribs;  and  as  if  in- 
jury were  the  most  trivial  thing  in  the  world, 
bantered  one  another  upon  a  prospective  so- 
journ in  the  hospital.  The  sun  flooded  the 
basin  out  of  a  cloudless  sky.  Only  the  unmov- 
ing  mixer,  the  silent  trams,  the  abandoned 


308        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

dam,  seemed  strange  in  their  present  idleness. 

Dukane  and  his  associates  speculated  upon 
what  degree  of  drunkenness  the  absent  work- 
men might  arrive  at;  if  they  should  not  be 
checked  in  their  drinking  and  persuaded  away 
from  the  gully  the  prospective  attack  would 
hiss  down  into  nothing,  like  a  damp  fire- 
cracker. If,  however,  Lantry  could  master 
them  at  the  right  stage,  they  would  be  ripe  for 
any  mischief.  The  reporter  alone  was  busy, 
having  withdrawn  to  one  side  where  he  should 
be  undisturbed  while  weaving  the  tale  of  the 
progressing  adventures  of  James  A.  Dukane, 
junior.  For  once  in  his  journalistic  career  he 
found  a  situation  completely  to  his  satisfaction 
— high  lights,  low  lights,  tableau  and  plot,  hero, 
heroine  and  villain ;  and,  ah !  all  that  was  needed 
to  perfect  the  last  flourish  was  to  dip  his  pen 
in  blood. 

"There  they  come,"  Satterfield  stated  finally, 
who  had  been  standing  at  a  window  gazing 
through  a  pair  of  field-glasses  at  the  mouth  of 
the  ravine. 

A  group  of  men  emerged.  They  halted, 
staring  in  the  direction  of  the  camp  and  evi- 
dently undetermined  whether  to  advance  or  to 
remain.  But  others  straggled  forth  to  join 


THE  SKIRMISH  309 

them  ana  then  at  last  came  the  whole  swarm. 
Through  the  glasses  they  were  plainly  in  view, 
as  they  shifted  and  moved  about  Corbetson  and 
Lantry  who  were  addressing  them.  Then  they 
raised  a  sudden  cheer  which  was  borne  on  the 
light  wind  to  the  men  who  awaited  their  com- 
ing, and  started  forward  in  a  dense,  disorderly 
mass. 

Outside  the  office  the  faithful  band  had  risen 
to  their  feet,  all  at  once  silent,  watchful,  ear- 
nest, expectant,  knitting  their  brows  or  chew- 
ing their  tobacco-quids  more  quickly.  Calla- 
han  walked  up  and  down  in  front  of  them. 

"I've  only  one  hand,  men,  but  I  can  whip 
any  six  of  the  swilling  beasts,"  he  was  saying. 
"You  will  warm  to  it,  you  will  love  the  work 
before  we're  done  with  'em.  You  never  made 
such  easy  money.  And  if  you  would  make  'em 
sick  of  the  job,  rap  'em  on  the  shins.  It's  the 
shins  you  want  to  hit  for  in  the  beginning,  then 
when  they  double  up,  take  'em  on  top  of  the 
head.  That's  strategy,  men, — and  it's  Calla- 
han  who  knows  all  about  a  shindy." 

The  men  grinned  in  appreciation  of  his  ad- 
vice, half  a  dozen  voicing  their  assurance. 

"It's  a  shame  we  can't  give  you  something 
better  to  practice  on,"  Casey  said,  with  twin- 


310        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

kling  eyes,  "but  you  must  excuse  us,  for  the 
party  was  got  up  in  a  hurry;  next  time  we'll 
do  better." 

A  full  laugh  greeted  this  sally  and  a  couple 
of  burly  "hard-rock"  men  clapped  him  on  the 
back. 

"What's  the  bounty  on  pelts?"  one  cried. 

That  the  body  of  approaching  laborers  had 
perceived  them  was  made  evident  even  at  a  dis- 
tance by  a  chorus  of  yells,  jeers,  cat-calls  and 
taunting  shouts.  From  men  merely  having  a 
thirst  for  liquor  they  had  become  inflamed  by 
whiskey  and  provocative  talk  until  they  im- 
agined themselves  the  victims  of  some  trick. 
A  number  were  already  pretty  far  gone,  stag- 
gering in  their  walk  and  lurching  unsteadily, 
flinging  their  hands  up  in  dazed  gestures,  being 
impelled  forward  by  the  mere  example  of  the 
greater  number.  But  it  was  not  at  them  the 
defenders  gazed ;  there  were  the  active,  belliger- 
ent incensed  ruffians,  by  far  the  greater  num- 
ber, who  must  be  dealt  with.  Already  they 
were  hurling  curses  at  Dukane,  at  the  engi- 
neers, at  everybody  but  themselves. 

In  their  midst  strode  Lantry  and  Corbetson. 
The  former  led  in  the  demonstration  directed 
at  the  office,  the  latter  moved  unsteadily  and 


In  their  midst  strode  Lantry  and  Corbetson 


Page 


THE  SKIRMISH  311 

with  a  reckless,  desperate,  liquor-flushed  look 
on  his  face.  Clearly  he  had  thrown  all  caution 
to  the  winds,  drowned  his  natural  timidity  at 
the  barrel  and  now  risked  all  on  this  stroke  in 
order  to  regain  possession  of  the  camp. 
Strangely  out  of  place  he  appeared  in  the  midst 
of  the  noisy  crowd  and  Satterfield  and  Leschel- 
les  who  had  been  so  long  his  associates  regarded 
him  in  silence,  almost  in  sorrow. 

"Come  over  here  to  us,  where  you  belong, 
you  hellions,"  a  burly  swaggerer  shouted  at  the 
waiting  line,  "or  we'll  bring  you." 

The  chance  of  retort  was  too  good  to  let 
escape ;  a  score  of  voices  from  the  defenders  in- 
vited the  speaker  to  proceed  with  the  job  and 
with  the  invitation  went  caustic  and  profane 
comments  upon  his  record,  character  and  per- 
son. 

"Will  you  give  up  that  young  fool  Hemple, 
or  will  you  not?"  Lantry  demanded,  thrusting 
himself  to  the  fore. 

"We  will  not,  to  you  or  to  anybody." 

"Then  come  on,  men,  we'll  get  him,"  Lantry 
shouted,  turning  to  his  followers. 

For  a  few  paces  they  surged  after  him,  but 
in  the  face  of  the  determined  line  presented  by 
the  smaller  force  they  lagged  and  finally  came 


312        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

to  a  halt.  The  sight  of  the  staves  of  the  sober, 
eager  men,  who  only  awaited  a  pretext  to  leap 
into  action,  caused  them  to  pause,  half -intoxi- 
cated though  they  were,  and  indeed  they  had 
not  yet  received  the  outward  repulse  which  was 
necessary  to  kindle  and  inflame  their  passions 
and  start  them  on  a  riotous  course.  Callahan 
was  not  of  the  temperament  to  adopt  pacific 
methods.  Somewhere  in  the  mob  which  sur- 
rounded Lantry  a  humorous,  drunken  individ- 
ual heaved  a  stone  at  the  row  of  defenders, 
whereupon  half  a  dozen  of  his  companions  took 
profit  from  his  example  and  addressed  them- 
selves to  throwing  at  the  line  of  human  targets ; 
and  so  excellent  did  the  idea  appear  that  pres- 
ently the  whole  mob  stooped  to  gather  missiles. 

"Charge!"  Callahan  roared,  who  recognized 
a  crisis. 

Instantly  his  corps  of  janissaries  sprang  for- 
ward, covering  the  narrow  intervening  space 
before  the  disorderly  mass  of  assailants  were 
aware  what  wras  happening  and  sweeping  them 
back  in  a  single  disorderly  wave.  Lantry 
raged  at  the  men  nearest  him;  but  the  stone- 
throwers  were  caught  at  a  disadvantage,  as- 
saulted while  yet  in  a  stooping  posture,  beaten 
over  shins,  over  shoulders,  over  heads,  until  they 


THE  SKIRMISH  313 

bawled  in  an  indescribable  uproar.  Those 
whom  liquor  had  made  uncertain  upon  their 
feet  early  fell  to  the  ground  in  the  melee  and 
were  trampled  under  heel;  shovel-handles  and 
axe-helves  flew;  the  members  of  Callahan's 
army  exchanged  shouts  and  jests;  until  finally 
the  mob  which  as  a  whole  had  made  no  con- 
certed resistance,  burst  before  the  defenders 
and  scattered  southward.  Callahan  and  Casey 
called  their  men  back  to  the  office. 

"That  will  do  nicely,"  said  the  time-keeper, 
"nicely  for  a  starter." 

But  only  a  starter  it  was.  Since  the  band  of 
deserters  were  not  pursued,  they  did  not  run 
far;  they  gathered  together,  cursing  and  shak- 
ing fists  and  rubbing  bruised  spots.  On  the 
skirmish-ground  a  few  of  the  fallen  struggled 
feebly,  aimlessly,  to  climb  to  their  feet  and 
when  this  end  was  accomplished  they  stumbled 
away  in  blind  meanderings  until  they  should 
discover  some  haven  where  they  might  snore 
off  their  debauch.  To  these  Lantry  paid  no 
attention;  but  he  addressed  the  mob  about  him 
in  fierce,  impassioned  tones. 

Suddenly  the  watchers  at  the  office  perceived 
that  a  quarrel  had  broken  out  between  him  and 
Corbetson.  The  two  spoke  hotly,  gesticulat- 


314        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

ing,  in  turn  seeking  favor  with  the  angry 
crowd.  Whatever  their  opposing  views, — and 
it  appeared  that  Corbetson  had  at  last  balked 
at  the  violence  which  the  other  advocated— 
Lantry  carried  the  crowd  with  him,  a  burst  of 
yells  rang  out  and  bearing  Corbetson  with 
them  they  approached  on  the  run. 

This  time  they  were  moved  by  no  aimless 
purpose.  The  knocks  they  had  received,  the 
bruises,  the  aching  heads  and  shoulders,  were 
fresh  .  and  a  flame  burned  in  their  breast, 
an  avid  desire  for  revenge.  But  they  did 
not  halt  in  front  of  the  office.  Corbetson 
strove  to  persuade  them  so  to  do  and  to  di- 
rect them  to  such  a  course,  only  to  be 
hooted  and  jeered.  Destruction  of  whatever 
they  could  lay  hands  on  now  alone  would 
satisfy  them;  and  the  insidious  suggestion 
which  Lantry  had  made  to  tear  down  the  camp 
building  by  building,  met  with  their  drunken 
approval. 

The  power-house  had  apparently  been  de- 
cided upon  as  their  first  point  of  attack. 
Catching  up  stones  as  they  ran,  a  few  of  which 
were  flung  at  the  men  in  front  of  the  office — 
the  crowd  swept  by.  For  the  office  had  at 
present  only  a  minor  interest ;  the  company  of 


THE  SKIRMISH  315 

defenders  under  Callahan  should  later  be  at- 
tended to,  according  to  Lantry's  talk,  when  the 
camp  was  laid  low.  A  savage,  implacable 
band  they  were.  The  over-drunk,  the  weak, 
the  fearful,  had  fallen  out  and  of  the  remaining 
hundred-odd  who  pressed  forward  there  was 
not  one  but  had  been  transformed  by  liquor 
and  the  earlier  defeat  into  a  maddened,  des- 
perate destroyer. 

When  they  came  even  with  the  mess-house, 
the  appearance  of  a  cook  with  a  pan  in  his 
hand  standing  in  the  door  created  a  tem- 
porary diversion.  In  spite  of  Lantry's  efforts 
to  keep  them  in  the  original  direction,  they 
swerved  at  sight  of  him,  yelping  like  hounds 
who  suddenly  sight  a  quarry,  and  made  for 
their  man.  All  was  grist  that  came  to  their 
mill.  The  cook  took  one  startled  look,  uttered 
a  yell  of  fright  and  disappeared  within,  fol- 
lowed by  as  many  of  the  crowd  as  could  wedge 
into  the  door.  A  clatter  of  outraged  pans  and 
pots  sounded  inside  the  kitchen,  while  from  the 
rear  the  four  cooks  burst  forth  and  raced  to  the 
office  for  safety.  One  still  clutched  a  ladle,  his 
white  apron  flapping  wildly,  his  cap  awry. 
Several  of  the  looters  even  proceeded  so  far 
as  to  pursue  them  a  distance.  And  meanwhile 


316        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

the  horrible  uproar  of  maltreated  tin-ware  went 
on,  until  at  last  the  marauders'  vengeance  had 
its  fill  in  this  particular  channel.  The  cooks 
hiding  behind  the  bulwark  of  Callahan's  army 
swore  and  cursed  and  called  down  imprecations 
on  the  unholy  rioters. 

"They're  bitin'  off  their  nose  to  spite  their 
face,"  said  Casey,  calmly.  "Rest  easy,  you 
pie-makers.  They'll  be  round  for  suuper  and 
that's  where  you  get  square." 

Meanwhile  the  human  inundation  had  passed 
through  and  over  the  mess-house,  swallowed, 
spat  it  out  and  swirled  on  towards  the  power- 
house. 

"They're  growin'  mean,"  Callahan  addressed 
Dukane,  where  the  whole  body  of  defenders 
stood  waiting  and  biding  their  time.  "Lantry 
is  a  wise  captain,  lettin'  'em  have  just  enough 
whiskey  to  make  'em  ugly  if  they're  crossed. 
What  about  us?  Do  we  mix  again,  or  do  we 
sit  idling  away  the  time  twiddlin'  thumbs?" 

"Give  the  engineer  down  yonder  a  chance 
first,"  Jimmy  stated. 

The  doors  of  the  power-house  had  been 
closed  and  barred  and  the  windows  shut.  On 
the  former  the  mob  hurled  themselves  until 
they  rattled  and  creaked  upon  their  hinges,  but 


THE  SKIRMISH  317 

they  were  solidly  built  and  withstood  the  strain. 
Around  a  corner  the  crowd  of  drunken  men 
ran,  following  the  first  suggestion  offered  by 
one  of  their  number,  and  a  shower  of  stones 
cleaned  out  the  first  pair  of  windows.  A  shout 
of  triumph  traveled  up  the  slope  to  the  watch- 
ers, which  was  quickly  followed  by  shrill 
screams  of  astonishment,  pain,  agony  and 
anger.  As  if  tossed  back  by  a  mighty  blast  of 
wind  the  mob  curled  up  on  itself,  huddled  an 
instant  in  confusion  and  then  fled  wildly  away. 
Boiling  water  was  an  enemy  not  to  be  endured. 
Of  the  hundred  and  more  who  had  joined  in 
this  last  maneuver  a  good  score  were  placed 
hors  de  combat  by  the  steaming,  unlooked-for 
stream  which  greeted  them  at  the  window. 
Some  of  the  men  groaned  or  rolled  upon  the 
ground  in  suffering,  sobered  and  conscious 
only  of  their  pain.  But  the  greater  number 
gathered  in  a  silent,  sullen  crowd  and  glared  at 
the  building.  Lantry  talked,  urging,  impre- 
cating, threatening.  He  pointed  at  the  mixer. 
The  mob  swung  without  a  word  in  that  di- 
rection and  headed  for  it;  here  at  least  was 
machinery  which  stood  unprotected,  the  loss 
of  which  would  cause  a  serious  stoppage  of 
work. 


318        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

"Shall  we  stand  here  and  see  that  happen?" 
Callahan  asked,  mortally  angry  at  the  assault 
upon  his  own  particular  machine. 
"Are  you  afraid  to  attack  them?" 
"Afraid,  we'll  drive  'em  into  the  river!" 
Like  an  avalanche  the  body  of  men,  led  by 
the  intrepid  Callahan  and  Casey,  swept  down 
the  slope  past  mess-house  and  bunk-house,  run- 
ning silently,  intent  on  the  enemy.  This  fight 
would  not  be  a  joke,  they  well  knew,  and  in 
consequence  saved  their  breath  against  the  time 
when  they  should  need  it.  But  the  rioters  who 
swarmed  about  the  mixing-plant  in  an  en- 
deavor to  wreck  and  destroy  its  machinery,  ob- 
served them  coming,  a  shout  of  battle-lust 
sounded  a  welcome  to  conflict  and  next  minute 
the  two  forces  lost  their  identities  in  a  raging, 
swirling  mass  of  human  figures. 

Out-numbered  though  Dukane's  supporters 
were,  out-numbered  by  more  than  two  to  one, 
they  made  up  in  sobriety,  efficiency,  prepared- 
ness and  cohesion  what  they  lacked  in  strength. 
Callahan  and  Casey  rallied  them  continually; 
they  clung  together,  having  entered  the  midst 
of  Lantry's  followers  in  a  solid  wedge,  and 
they  had  the  further  advantage  of  carrying 
weapons.  "Every  time  you  see  a  head,  crack 


THE  SKIRMISH  319 

it,"  had  been  Casey's  single  injunction.  And 
this  plan  and  direct  method  of  warfare  the  as- 
sailants followed. 

Yet  numbers  presently  began  to  count. 
Among  Lantry's  force  were  men  as  burly,  as 
vigorous,  as  active  and  as  lustful  as  those  who 
had  hurled  themselves  down  upon  them.  At 
first  beaten  back  and  under  the  necessity  of 
meeting  staves  with  fists  they  gave  ground 
until  the  contest  moved  away  from  the  mixer 
down  towards  the  river,  into  which  Callahan 
had  promised  to  drive  the  deserters;  but  as 
Lantry's  followers  observed  the  inferiority  of 
the  others,  as  they  gathered  themselves  to- 
gether, by  the  natural  magnetism  of  making  a 
defense,  they  stood  firm,  shook  their  heads 
under  the  hail  of  blows  and  then  with  a  sudden 
burst  of  ferocity  leaped  at  the  invaders. 

Over  the  ground  whither  had  moved  the  cur- 
rent of  battle  there  lay  here  and  there  a  dazed 
or  a  feebly  crawling  victim,  who  had  fallen  and 
who  might  have  been  designated  as  the  "slain," 
for  they  were  at  any  rate  of  no  further  use. 
Those  who  were  capable  of  movement  sought 
to  withdraw  on  one  side  when  they  observed  the 
contest  swinging  back  once  more  over  the  same 
course.  For  Lantry's  army  was  now  in  the 


320        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

ascendant,  and  though  his  antagonists  with- 
drew in  good  order  they  nevertheless  were  in 
retreat.  All  at  once  when  they  reached  the 
mixer  both  forces  as  if  by  sudden  consent 
ceased  to  struggle.  They  drew  a  little  way 
apart  and  regarded  each  other.  Of  Lantry's 
hundred  and  more  there  remained  only  fifty 
who  were  not  down  or  fled,  and  these  bruised, 
bloody,  torn,  disreputable,  ferocious,  looked  for 
all  the  world  like  some  band  of  beggars  come 
out  of  the  hills  to  pillage.  The  members  of 
Dukane's  flying  troop  were  in  no  better  case, 
though  thanks  to  their  staves  they  had  not  suf- 
fered so  severely  in  numbers. 

"And  how  do  you  like  the  welcome,  Lantry  ?" 
Callahan  shouted,  a  great  cut  from  which  blood 
dripped  over  one  eye. 

"We've  but  begun,  damn  you,"  that  worthy 
retorted,  "and  when  we've  had  a  drink  to  re- 
fresh us,  then  God  help  you !" 

His  followers  caught  up  the  suggestion,  cry- 
ing "a  drink,  a  drink!"  and  abandoning  their 
conquest  of  the  mixer  set  out  one  and  all  for 
the  gully  where  they  had  left  the  barrel  of  whis- 
key. 

"Well,  what  do  ye  think  of  that!"  Casey  ex- 
claimed, in  astonishment  at  this  ludicrous  per- 


THE  SKIRMISH  321 

formance.  "They  won't  even  stay  to  be  en- 
tirely licked." 

"Did  you  see  Corbetson?"  Callahan  asked. 
"Lantry  has  taken  things  over  and  the  old  chief 
is  simply  driftin',  don't  know  what  to  do." 

"Take  heed,  then,  Mike,  for  the  future.  Ob- 
serve what  comes  of  bad  companions.  And 
meanwhile  let  us  look  over  the  dead  and 
wounded  to  see  which  need  court  plaster.  This 
day  I  shall  never  forget." 

A  sudden  roar,  a  united  yell  of  rage,  of  dis- 
appointment, of  ferocity,  burst  suddenly  from 
the  gully.  Out  from  its  mouth  Lantry  and 
his  men  poured  like  a  swarm  of  streaming  hor- 
nets. 

"The  devil's  to  pay  about  something  and 
what  is  it?"  Casey  exclaimed. 

Nevertheless  he  and  Callahan  hastily  gath- 
ered their  cohort  together  and  without  waiting 
to  learn  the  cause  of  this  extraordinary  erup- 
tion marched  up  to  the  office,  where  they  took 
their  old  station. 


CHAPTER   XV 

THE  BATTLE 


the  rest  of  you  watched  them 
fight,  I  struck  them  at  their  unpro- 
tected base.  In  other  words,  I  walked  up  yon- 
der and  tipped  over  what  was  left  of  the  barrel 
of  whiskey." 

Kendle  spoke.  His  explanation  was  vouch- 
safed in  respect  to  the  mysterious  rage  which 
seemed  to  have  all  at  once  taken  possession  of 
the  revelers  when  they  reached  the  gully  and 
which  caused  them  immediately  to  return  upon 
the  camp.  That  the  deprivation  of  liquor  cut 
to  their  thirsty  souls  was  only  too  apparent  :  in 
manner,  in  voice,  in  act,  they  made  plain  their 
fury.  They  had  never  dreamt  of  such  an  in- 
sidious blow. 

"There'll  be  no  parleying  this  time,"  the 
journalist  remarked.  "And  they're  fit  to  blow 
everything  to  Kingdom  Come." 

Jimmy  Dukane  uttered  an  exclamation. 

"By  Jove,  the  powder-house  I" 


THE  BATTLE  323 

"It's  locked,"  Leschelles  assured  him. 

"Yes,  but  locks  will  be  nothing  to  that  mob 
once  it  sets  out  to  burst  through  and  seize  the 
dynamite." 

"The  door's  a  stout  one,"  the  second  engineer 
maintained.  And  then,  "Just  look  at  the  hill 
over  yonder !" 

On  top  of  the  ridge  overlooking  the  camp, 
figures  could  be  discerned  moving  among  the 
scanty  pines  and  posting  themselves  at  points 
of  observation.  A  hasty  examination  by  Sat- 
terfield  through  the  field-glasses  showed  them  to 
be  neither  enemies  nor  friends,  but  an  audience 
of  curious  workmen  from  other  camps.  Word 
of  the  extraordinary  usurpation  of  power  by 
Dukane,  of  the  driving  forth  of  Corbetson,  of 
the  threats  by  Lantry  to  make  the  youth  go 
out  of  the  camp  feet  first,  of  the  rebellion  and 
prospective  war,  had  flown  as  ever  word  of  im- 
minent trouble  flies  to  the  other  camps  at  the 
tunnel  and  upon  the  irrigation  canal.  Men 
flung  down  their  tools  and  came  to  Silver  Peak 
Dam,  where  choosing  the  ridge  as  a  safe  and 
excellent  location  to  follow  the  fight,  they  set- 
tled down  to  watch,  indifferent  as  to  the  merits 
of  the  case  and  hostile  to  neither  party.  Since 
they  belonged  in  otKer  camps,  the  outcome  con- 


THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

cerned  them  not  and  they  yelled  equal  en- 
couragement to  both  forces  of  the  combatants. 

But  Dukane  gave  them  only  a  single  hur- 
ried glance,  then  he  turned  and  ran  through  the 
office  into  the  store,  where  Hop  Spencer  main- 
tained his  watch. 

"Can  you  shoot,  Hop?"  he  demanded. 

"I  used  to." 

"Then  if  you  see  anyone  try  to  get  into  the 
powder-house,  shoot  him  down." 

"Kill  him?" 

"Yes,  kill  him.  For  if  any  of  those  scoun- 
drels get  at  the  dynamite,  it'll  be  all  day  with 
the  dam,  the  camp  and  the  rest  of  us." 

"I'll  do  the  best  I  can,  though  I  ain't  shot 
much  lately." 

"Pump  lead  at  whoever  tries  to  break  the 
door — it  will  scare  him  even  if  it  doesn't  hit 
him." 

Leaving  Spencer  busy  at  work  filling  the 
magazine  of  a  Winchester  with  cartridges  Du- 
kane ran  back  into  the  office.  As  if  in  the  men 
whom  Callahan  and  Casey  mustered  the  disap- 
pointed and  enraged  malcontents  beheld  fit 
subjects  for  their  passions,  they  made  straight 
for  them,  their  eyes  flashing,  their  hands 
clenched.  This  was  the  crucial  moment.  Cor- 


THE  BATTLE  325 

betson,  who  had  given  up  hope  of  regaining  the 
office,  now  had  hope  revived  and  cheered  the 
men  on  to  the  attack ;  while  Lantry  asked  noth- 
ing better  than  to  continue  the  fight.  Before 
the  office  then  the  battle  was  presently  raging, 
this  time  with  a  desperation  unequalled  by  any 
previous  assault.  Roused  by  the  bold  and 
threatening  cries  of  their  assailants,  the  defend- 
ers displayed  an  equally  aggressive  spirit, 
swinging  their  axe-helves  merrily  when  they 
had  not  lost  them  and  resorting  to  fists  when 
they  had. 

"If  we  only  had  a  reserve  force  to  throw  into 
the  ruction,"  Jimmy  Dukane  growled. 

"Come  out  here  where  I  can  get  a  hand  on 
you,"  Lantry  shouted.  "Of  course,  you  hold 
back  and  look  on,  you  coward!" 

All  the  hatred  of  the  man  which  had  been 
nurtured  in  his  breast  for  weeks  flamed  up  in 
Jimmy,  all  the  desire  to  beat  this  enemy  into 
helpless  dust,  to  grind  him  under  heel,  demolish 
him,  surged  in  his  bosom  and  he  made  a  leap 
towards  the  fight  in  response  to  the  taunt.  But 
Satterfield  caught  him  by  the  arm. 

"Let  me  go,  let  me  go!"  Dukane  cried,  an- 
grily striking  at  the  detaining  hand. 

"No,  they'd  kill  you  in  there." 


326        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

"Let  me  go,  I  don't  care." 

Leschelles  had  come  to  Satterfield's  assist- 
ance and  together  they  dragged  the  furious 
youth  back  into  the  office,  where  they  expressed 
themselves  vigorously  upon  the  subject  of  such 
recklessness.  Indeed,  Jimmy  came  quickly  to 
his  senses  when  Satterfield  pointed  out,  speak- 
ing in  a  calm,  ironical  voice,  that  the  battle  was 
going  against  them  and  in  another  five  minutes 
Corbetson  would  once  more  be  sitting  in  the 
office  chair. 

"Not  much  he  won't,  not  while  we've  got  fire 
arms,"  Jimmy  declared,  rushing  to  the  inner 
store  door. 

A  minute  later  he  returned  bearing  a  load 
of  shot  guns  and  rifles,  which  he  stacked  near 
the  door  ready  to  hand. 

"If  anyone  attempts  to  enter  here,  blow  him 
to  pieces,"  he  exclaimed. 

And  indeed  a  warning  was  necessary.  Cal- 
lahan  was  down,  overwhelmed  by  enemies  and 
handicapped  by  the  lack  of  one  arm;  Casey 
continued  to  fight  on  at  the  head  of  his  remain- 
ing supporters,  keeping  them  about  him  in  a 
compact  mass  which  should  offer  the  greatest 
resistance  and  work  the  most  effective  injury. 
Suddenly  they  were  swept  aside,  beaten  down 


THE  BATTLE 

and  rendered  helpless.  Lantry  and  a  score  of 
men,  wearing  the  dust  and  blood  of  their  fierce 
encounter,  appeared  before  the  office  door. 

"We'll  pay  you  out  now,  you  scum,"  Lantry 
roared  triumphantly,  shaking  a  fist  at  Du- 
kane  and  licking  his  lips. 

Dukane  lifted  a  shot  gun  into  sight;  other 
weapons  were  thrust  out  the  windows  in  the 
faces  of  the  rioters  who  shrank  back.  An  un- 
holy light  of  joy  filled  Jimmy's  eyes,  a  reckless 
smile  transformed  his  visage ;  he  thrust  the  muz- 
zle of  the  shot  gun  first  at  Lantry,  then  at  Cor- 
betson,  both  of  whom  had  crowded  towards 
him. 

"Come  another  step  and  receive  the  load  of 
lead  that's  waiting  for  you,"  he  cried. 

A  shot  gun  is  an  ugly  weapon,  far  more  ef- 
fective at  close  range  than  a  rifle  and  exceed- 
ingly wider  in  its  action,  and  the  average  man 
has  a  greater  dread  of  its  effects  than  of  the 
other  and  higher-powered  gun.  Lantry  and 
Corbetson  hastily  withdrew.  Curses  flowed 
from  the  lips  of  the  former,  as  he  recognized 
that  numbers  would  not  count  here  and  that  an 
attack  upon  the  office  would  be  a  needless  waste 
of  life. 

"What  will  you  do  now?"  he  exclaimed,  turn- 


328        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

ing  fiercely  to  Corbetson.  "I've  got  the  men 
for  you  and  I've  won  the  fight — can't  you  use 
that  brain  of  yours  to  think  of  something?" 

But  the  former  chief,  now  that  his  last  hope 
was  destroyed,  appeared  given  over  to  despair. 
Without  answering  in  words  he  shook  his  head 
and  stared  in  a  daze  at  the  ground. 

"And  I  thought  you  were  a  man!"  Lantry 
scoffed,  derisively.  "If  I'd  known  what  sort 
of  stuff  you're  made  of,  I'd  never  have  gone 
into  this  thing  with  you."  iWith  which  he 
turned  his  back  on  Corbetson. 

At  that  instant  Callahan  who  had  lain  ap- 
parently in  a  stupor  from  a  blow  received  in 
the  scrimmage,  suddenly  reached  forth  his  one 
hand  from  where  he  lay,  seized  Lantry  by  the 
ankle  and  jerked  his  feet  out  from  under  him. 
Next  instant  the  pair  were  locked  in  each  oth- 
er's embrace,  rolling  and  fighting  upon  the 
ground,  to  the  astonishment  of  Lantry's  fol- 
lowers, who,  however,  presently  recovered  suf- 
ficiently to  run  forward  and  attempt  to  kick 
Callahan  in  head  or  body. 

"By  heaven,  I  won't  stand  that!"  Dukane 
shouted,  to  anybody  who  cared  to  hear. 

Bounding  out  of  the  office  door,  still  grip- 
ping his  shot  gun  as  he  ran  and  emitting  a 


THE  BATTLE  329 

blood-curdling  yell  he  raced  towards  the  hos- 
tile group.  That  they  were  startled  at  this  sud- 
den and  unexpected  attack  is  putting  it  lightly; 
but  they  turned  to  meet  him.  With  the  barrel 
of  his  gun  pointing  over  their  heads,  Dukane  let 
go  one  barrel,  at  the  same  instant  giving  vent 
to  another  terrifying  yell.  In  the  midst  of  the 
confusion  that  followed,  a  confusion  of  shouts 
and  shrieks  from  men  who  expected  next  to  re- 
ceive a  scattering  fire  of  shot  in  their  faces, 
Jimmy  stuck  the  barrel  of  the  gun  skyward 
and  fired  again. 

After  him  came  the  others  pouring  out  of 
the  office — Satterfield,  Leschelles,  Kendle  and 
the  reporter,  each  swinging  a  gun  ready  to  deal 
execution.  When  the  smoke  cleared  the  bat- 
tle-field was  bare,  except  for  the  victors,  for  the 
wounded  of  the  earlier  melee  and  for  Callahan 
and  Lantry  who  fought  to  grasp  each  other's 
throat ;  the  enemy  had  fled,  was  still  fleeing. 

Dukane  dropped  his  gun  and  pounced  on 
Lantry. 

"Get  a  rope,  Leschelles,  get  a  rope,"  he 
called  over  his  shoulder. 

When  the  assistant  engineer  had  brought  a 
piece  of  rope  from  the  store  they  tied  up  the 
captive,  after  dragging  him  away  from  Calla- 


330        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

ban  and  bound  him  to  a  chair  in  the  office.  Du- 
kane  was  jubilant;  even  Satterfield  viewed  the 
prisoner  with  an  air  of  satisfaction,  for  with- 
out question  Lantry  it  was  who  had  been  the 
active  spirit  in  organizing  and  developing  the 
riot.  With  him  out  of  the  way  the  rest  of  the 
men  should  be  easily  taken  care  of,  since  they 
would  be  without  leadership. 

"The  worst  is  over,"  the  doctor  said,  "I  can 
now  go  out  and  look  for  broken  heads." 

But  in  this  he  was  mistaken.  The  men  who 
had  fled  so  ignominiously  stopped,  gathered 
about  Corbetson  and  fell  into  vigorous  consul- 
tation. Altogether  there  were  forty  or  fifty, 
counting  those  who  had  been  temporarily  dis- 
abled but  who  had  returned  for  another  try  of 
fortunes,  and  the  whole  group  displayed  no  dis- 
position to  abandon  the  battle.  Committed 
as  they  were  already  they  were  not  in  a  mood 
to  stop  at  half  a  loaf.  Corbetson,  too,  now 
that  Lantry  had  been  removed  from  active  par- 
ticipation and  leadership,  suddenly  developed 
courage  under  the  responsibility  of  directing 
the  crowd.  With  quick,  sharp  words  which 
the  men  before  the  office  could  hear  but  not  dis- 
tinguish, he  addressed  his  companions  pointing 
now  here,  now  there,  about  the  camp. 

All  at  once  there  came  a  clatter  of  hoofs  on 


THE  BATTLE 

the  road  and  Enid  Crofton  galloped  up  to 
where  Dukane  and  his  companions  stood  before 
the  office  watching  the  opposite  party. 

"Are  you  safe,  unhurt?"  she  demanded. 
"I've  sat  off  over  yonder  waiting  and  looking, 
but  could  see  only  half  the  time  what  was  go- 
ing on.  TsTow  I  can't  stand  it  any  longer,  I'm 
going  to  stay  here." 

"You'll  do  nothing  of  the  kind,"  Jimmy  de- 
clared, sternly.  "This  is  no  place  for  a  girl." 

"If  you  send  me  away  now,  it  will  be  for- 
ever," she  answered,  in  a  low  voice  but  one 
carrying  a  threat. 

"But,  the  deuce! — you  can't  stay  around 
with  stones  and  everything  else  flying." 

"We  shall  see  whether  I  can."  She  dis- 
mounted and  looked  at  him  with  an  air  of  hau- 
teur. "I  come  and  go  as  I  please." 

"I'll  lock  you  up  in  the  closet,"  he  cried, 
angrily. 

"Hardly,"  was  the  calm  reply.  "Besides  I 
love  you,  and  shall  go  where  you  go." 

"Of  all  stubborn — "  he  began. 

But  at  that  instant  Satterfield  touched  him 
on  the  elbow,  pointing  towards  the  mess-houses. 

"What  do  you  think  they're  doing?"  he 
asked. 

Dukane  gazed  hard  at  the  buildings  behind 


332        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

which  the  disloyal  workmen  were  busy  appear- 
ing and  disappearing  as  they  moved  about. 
All  at  once  a  thin  column  of  smoke  rose  up  and 
floated  away  on  the  breeze. 

"Callahan — Casey — gather  men  and  stop 
that!"  Satterfield  ordered. 

Of  the  original  forty  defenders  who  had 
stood  in  line  to  receive  the  invaders,  scarcely  a 
one  remained  but  who  carried  marks  of  the 
various  struggles  in  which  they  had  engaged. 
A  dozen  assembled  quickly  in  response  to  Cal- 
lahan's  call,  another  dozen  limped  and  crawled 
forward  to  the  spot,  bearing  cut  heads,  broken 
hands  or  ribs,  or  cruelly  bruised  bodies.  Over 
the  ground  were  scattered  the  forms  of  men, 
friends  and  foes,  some  unconscious,  some  pain- 
fully injured  and  content  to  keep  quiet,  some 
slumbering  in  the  peaceful  bliss  of  drunken- 
ness; and  of  these  of  all  sorts,  the  far  greater 
numbers  were  of  Lantry's  force,  who  remained 
the  evidence  of  the  dexterity,  quickness  and 
strength  of  Dukane's  small  loyal  band. 

"We  are  ready,"  Callahan  stated. 

"Stay  where  you  are,  I'll  not  send  men  who 
have  already  fought  so  well  into  an  uneven  bat- 
tle," Dukane  announced. 

'Tis  not  uneven.    We  are  the  equal  of  them 
all,  and  more." 


THE  BATTLE  333 

"I'll  not  have  you  beaten  up  again,  even  if 
they  do  burn  the  bunk-houses." 

Such,  indeed,  was  the  apparent  intention  of 
the  men  moving  about  those  structures.  Un- 
der cover  of  their  walls  they  had  heaped  up 
enough  sticks  and  splinters  to  kindle  a  flame 
against  one  of  the  box-like  sides,  which  the  tar- 
paper  and  dry  boards  readily  fed.  In  two 
minutes  a  dense  column  of  smoke  rose  from  one 
building,  while  almost  immediately  another 
ascended  from  the  second  bunk-house,  and  then 
with  a  roar  and  a  rush  of  flames  the  two  build- 
ings were  engulfed  in  fire. 

The  watchers  looked  on  in  silence.  Here 
was  the  first  felonious  act  of  the  rioters 
and  marked  an  advance  in  the  degree  of  their 
desperation.  The  smoke  rolled  northward  on 
the  gentle  breeze,  filling  every  ravine  and  in- 
terstice of  the  northern  hills  and  presently  ob- 
scured them  from  view.  The  observers  from 
the  other  camps  lined  the  top  of  the  ridge,  sit- 
ting silent  or  gesticulating  in  excited  conver- 
sation. 

"That  is  the  beginning  of  the  end,"  Satter- 
field  remarked,  removing  his  eye-glasses.  "It's 
only  a  matter  of  time  now  when  they  will  get 
around  to  the  other  buildings  and  the  machin- 
ery." 


334.        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

Higher  and  blacker  rolled  the  smoke  from 
the  two  burning  houses.  As  if  the  spectacle 
which  these  constituted  for  the  time  satisfied 
Corbetson's  men's  appetite  for  destruction, 
they  drew  back  as  the  heat  increased,  but  con- 
tinued about  the  fires  interested  watchers,  oc- 
casionally shouting  a  jest  among  themselves. 

It  was  about  five  o'clock  when  the  perpetra- 
tors of  this  deed,  sated  by  fire  and  smoke, 
turned  to  cast  about  for  other  material  upon 
which  to  put  their  destructive  hand.  Evening 
was  not  very  far  off.  The  long  afternoon  rays 
were  slanting  down  into  the  basin  at  an  angle 
which  indicated  that  they  would  soon  be 
blocked  by  the  western  portion  of  the  ridge. 
Spoilers  and  despoilers  both  sought  to  accom- 
plish something  definite  and  final  before  the 
fall  of  darkness,  though  Dukane  and  his  com- 
panions had  most  to  fear  from  the  added  dan- 
gers which  it  would  bring  and  the  protection  it 
would  afford  the  rioters. 

"Didn't  you  wire  for  the  sheriff  of  this 
county  to  come  here?"  Kendle,  the  cement  man, 
inquired  thoughtfully. 

"Yes,  if  he's  coming,  now  would  be  a  good 
time  for  him  to  arrive." 

"He'll  probably  take  his  time." 


THE  BATTLE  335 

At  this  point  in  the  talk  Enid  Crofton  who 
had  been  filling  the  part  of  an  unobtrusive  ob- 
server, suddenly  led  her  pony  on  one  side, 
mounted  and  swung  its  head  about  until  she 
faced  the  men. 

"What  do  you  want  with  a  sheriff  when 
father  has  a  dozen  cowboys  over  yonder?" 
And  she  pointed  her  quirt  in  the  direction  of 
the  ranch-house. 

"The  difference  is  this,  Miss  Crofton,"  Sat- 
terfield  explained  with  a  smile,  "the  cowboys 
would  do  very  well,  but  they  represent  mere 
force;  the  sheriff  represents  constituted  and 
lawful  authority." 

"It  seems  to  me  that  this  is  a  time  for  force 
instead  of  authority,"  she  sniffed.  "Look  at 
them ;  how  much  attention  would  they  pay  to  a 
sheriff  or  any  other  officer?" 

Truly,  to  judge  by  the  mob's  new  course 
this  was  a  question  which  answered  itself. 
They  were  now  running  towards  that  part  of 
the  camp  which  comprised  the  power-plant, 
the  mixer  and  the  machinery  for  loading  and 
operating  the  aerial  tramway.  A  few  of  the 
hardier  spirits  repeated  their  rush  upon  the 
doors  of  the  power-plant,  but  when  a  stream  of 
boiling  water  again  lashed  out  of  a  window  at 


336        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

them  directed  by  the  vigilant  engineer,  they 
swerved  to  one  side  and  followed  their  compan- 
ions. 

They  fell  upon  the  mixer,  wrestled  with  it, 
beat  it  with  rods  of  iron,  but  worked  little  dam- 
age upon  its  frame. 

"That's  a  tough  nut  to  crack,"  Dukane 
stated  with  a  laugh,  as  he  and  the  others 
watched  the  assault,  "and  I  ought  to  know, 
having  worked  in  its  shadow." 

Giving  up  the  conquest  of  this  the  mob 
swung  eastward  at  a  run.  With  a  quick  shout 
they  sprang  at  the  first  supporting  tower  of  the 
aerial  tramway,  wrapped  a  rope  about  its  props 
and  with  a  tug  pulled  it  down.  Accomplish- 
ment warmed  their  blood  and  fired  their  ardor. 
They  ran  to  the  next  tower  and  hurled  it  crash- 
ing, and  the  next,  and  the  next,  working  with 
rapid,  eager  hands,  until  the  whole  aerial  cable 
lay  in  disorder  upon  the  ground. 

"The  dam,  the  dam!"  rose  from  their  lips. 

On  the  instant  every  man  of  them  turned 
running  towards  the  spot  where  the  low  gray 
bulwark  of  the  partially  completed  dam  lay  in 
the  gorge  between  the  cliffs.  Corbetson,  even 
more  than  the  men  he  led,  experienced  a  fierce, 
consuming  desire  to  destroy  the  work  on  which 
he  had  hoped  to  found  a  fortune,  but  which 


THE  BATTLE  837 

had  served  only  to  convict  him  of  a  crime.  He 
would  wipe  out  his  disgrace,  he  would  destroy 
the  evidence  of  his  false  work,  tumble  it  into 
the  river  in  dust  and  indistinguishable  frag- 
ments. Inspired  therefore  by  such  sentiments, 
the  prey  of  fear,  shame,  bitterness,  he  shouted 
as  loud  as  any,  "The  dam,  the  dam!"  and  waved 
the  men  on. 

For  what  now  remained  to  him?  All  the 
camp,  all  Silver  Peak  Basin,  all  the  world,  had 
turned  against  him  and  sought  to  cause  his 
ruin;  Satterfield  and  Leschelles  and  the  doctor 
had  betrayed  him  at  the  word  of  a  nondescript 
young  ruffian  who  had  tricked  him  into  crim- 
inal admissions,  his  workmen  would  have 
abandoned  him  had  he  not  bribed  them  to  a 
questionable  loyalty  with  liquor  and  a  promise 
of  large  wages,  and  finally  the  girl  whom  he 
loved,  for  whom  he  had  never  dared  to  confess 
his  affection,  had  scorned  him  and  openly 
chosen  and  defended  Hemple.  Destruction 
he  would  work:  he  would  a  last  time  walk 
through  the  camp  like  an  avenging  angel,  leav- 
ing smoke  and  ruin  in  his  rear,  and  then  depart. 
Money  he  had  waiting  for  him  on  the  outside, 
money  from  the  illegal  business  of  the  store, 
that  would  serve. 

With   these   desperate   and   evil   thoughts 


338        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

flashing  through  his  brain  he  led  his  men  up  the 
road  to  the  dam,  uttered  quick  commands  and 
pointed  at  the  spots  where  they  should  make 
their  attack.  Responsive  to  his  orders  they 
struggled  up  the  rocks  to  the  iron  rods  which 
held  the  network  of  cables  in  place  and  sought 
to  rip  them  loose;  but  this  was  not  easy,  the 
men's  footholds  were  precarious,  they  had  little 
room  to  use  their  crow  bars  and  the  cables  were 
stout.  Upon  the  dam  itself  men  had  scattered 
out  and  were  tearing  off  scaffolding,  tipping 
piles  of  lumber  into  the  chasm  and  heaving  tools 
into  the  depths.  But  this  did  not  touch  the  dam 
itself.  Corbetson  stamped  with  impotent  rage 
at  the  men's  stupidity,  looked  up  at  the  moun- 
tains where  the  sunset  rays  were  beginning  to 
lie  golden,  down  at  the  bed  of  the  stream  where 
the  water  ran  black  through  the  spill-way,  then 
at  the  dam  itself.  A  thought  leaped  into  his 
mind,  he  thrust  his  hand  into  his  pocket  where 
he  carried  his  keys. 

"Stop  this  child's  play,  men,"  he  shouted  at 
the  top  of  his  voice,  so  as  to  be  heard  over 
the  subdued  noise  of  the  canyon.  "Dynamite 

itr 

Dynamite !  At  that  word  men  instinctively 
caught  their  breaths;  it  conjured  up  a  vision 


THE  BATTLE  339 

of  destruction  magnificent  in  proportion  and 
splendid  in  conception.  Dynamite — that  were 
something  worth  while  indeed!  Those  who 
heard  the  word  hastened  to  the  spot  where  Cor- 
betson  stood  and  those  who  were  too  far  away 
to  understand,  yet  perceiving  from  the  actions 
of  the  others  that  something  new  was  in  the 
wind,  gave  over  the  matter  upon  which  they 
chanced  to  be  engaged  and  hurried  to  join  their 
companions. 

To  those  who  watched  from  the  office  this 
sudden  decision  was  significant. 

"What's  up  now!"  Leschelles  exclaimed,  who 
was  staring  at  them  through  the  field-glasses. 

"Oh,  Jimmy,  I  wish  this  was  over,"  whis- 
pered Enid.  "Somebody  will  yet  be  killed." 

"I  hope  so — and  I  want  to  do  the  killing  if 
Corbetson  is  to  be  the  victim.  But  no!  I'll 
enjoy  much  better  to  see  him  going  at  a  lock 
step  in  prison  and  wearing  an  abbreviated  hair 
cut." 

"How  vindictive  you  are !" 

"I  certainly  am.  He's  caused  me  a  lot  of 
trouble." 

"Perhaps  he  holds  similar  thoughts  about 
you." 

This  remark  Jimmy  did  not  deign  to  answer. 


340        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

He  fixed  his  gaze  upon  the  group  of  recalci- 
trant workmen  who  surrounded  Corbetson  and 
hid  him  from  view.  That  he  was  making  an 
impassioned  appeal  was  apparent,  that  they  lis- 
tened willingly  was  also  obvious,  and  that 
something  fresh  was  about  to  happen  was  like- 
wise easy  to  observe.  The  men  pressed  to- 
gether in  a  close  group ;  over  their  heads,  high 
up  on  the  south  rim  of  the  canyon,  were  scores 
of  workmen  from  the  other  two  camps,  who 
had  moved  along  the  ridge  until  they  came  to 
the  lip  of  the  precipice,  whence  they  could  be- 
hold all  that  might  pass  on  the  dam  below  them. 
Jimmy  looked  away  from  the  belligerents 
and  over  the  camp.  In  the  power-house  the 
engineer  and  fireman  leaned  out  of  the  win- 
dows, following  proceedings  and  holding  them- 
selves ready  for  any  further  attack;  the  engi- 
neer picked  his  teeth  calmly  as  though  flushing 
men  with  boiling  water  was  an  every  day  oc- 
currence. What  was  left  of  the  two  bunk- 
houses  had  sunk  into  two  beds  of  glowing 
ashes,  from  which  smoke  still  rose  and  passed 
away  upon  the  wind.  Over  the  ground  the 
doctor  moved,  engrossed  in  his  professional 
business  of  examining  wounded  men  to  deter- 
mine the  extent  of  their  injuries. 


THE  BATTLE 

"Here  they  come!"  Leschelles  announced,  as 
Dukane  once  more  directed  his  gaze  towards 
the  dam. 

"What  are  they  going  to  do?"  Enid  asked 
him,  anxiously. 

He  shook  his  head,  he  did  not  know.  No 
more  did  the  others  of  the  party  know  what 
idea  had  taken  possession  of  the  mob's  mind. 
At  a  run  the  whole  party  poured  down  the 
road  which  had  been  blasted  out  of  the  rock- 
wall  and  which  descended  at  a  gradual  incline 
to  the  camp.  Memory  of  another  day  came 
vividly  to  Dukane's  thought  as  he  watched  the 
crowd  advance  with  Corbetson  a  dozen  paces  in 
the  lead,  memory  of  the  noon  when  he  had  raced 
across  the  river,  sped  up  the  opposite  road  and 
pulled  Enid  from  her  horse  and  to  safety  one 
instant  before  the  firing  of  the  blast.  And 
now  what  a  change !  Who  could  have  foretold ; 
who  imagined,  all  that  had  occurred  in  the  in- 
terim, so  swiftly  and  so  momentously!  He, 
James  A.  Dukane,  Jr.,  who  had  come  into 
camp  a  disreputable  vagabond,  was  now  in 
command,  while  Corbetson  who  had  scorned 
him  that  day  had  fallen  from  his  high  seat  and 
now  ground  his  teeth  in  disgrace. 

At  the  bottom  of  the  incline  the  mob  turned 


34-2        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

and  headed  without  pause  for  the  powder 
house,  isolated  from  the  other  buildings  and 
half  sunk  in  the  earth. 

"They're  going  to  blow  up  the  dam,  by  the 
Almighty!"  Leschelles  exclaimed,  in  a  loud 
voice. 

Dukane  looked  about  him,  licking  his  lips 
like  an  angry  wildcat.  He  knit  his  brows, 
waiting.  At  that  instant  there  sounded  from 
far  up  the  road  by  the  Crofton  ranch-house, 
the  faint  long-drawn  musical  note  of  an  auto- 
mobile siren.  But  the  watchers  heard  it  with- 
out understanding,  without  attention. 

The  mob  reached  the  door  of  the  powder- 
house,  crowded  about  it.  Evidently  the  men 
hampered  Corbetson  with  the  key,  for  he  waved 
them  back  until  he  stood  free  and  alone.  He 
twisted  the  key  in  the  lock,  then  flung  up  a 
hand  in  triumph,  turning  to  his  followers. 

A  streak  of  flame  suddenly  spat  from  the 
store- window,  Corbetson's  hand  sank,  clutched 
at  his  breast.  Then  slowly  he  pitched  forward 
and  lay  on  his  face. 


CHAPTER   XVI 

A  NEW  REGIME 

A  T  this  sudden  and  wholly  unexpected  visi- 
^*>  tation  of  death  upon  their  leader,  the  mob 
halted  dumbfounded  in  its  raid.  All  thought 
of  dynamite,  of  blowing  up  the  dam,  of  finish- 
ing the  destruction  of  the  camp,  was  erased 
from  their  minds  by  the  sight  of  their  stricken 
captain :  and  as  he  was  laid  low  in  his  moment 
of  triumph,  so  their  passions  ceased,  their  wild 
formless  hatred  evaporated  and  they  stood 
stupid,  bewildered,  not  knowing  what  to  do  or 
where  to  turn.  Then  those  in  the  rear  began 
silently  and  unobtrusively  to  withdraw,  to  set 
out  skirting  the  ridge  on  their  way  to  Tunnel- 
town;  others  glancing  about  perceived  the 
movement ;  and  presently  as  by  a  miracle  where 
there  had  been  a  roaring,  tumultuous  crowd, 
there  remained  but  the  lifeless  corpse  of  the 
former  chief. 

Those  before  the  office  could  scarcely  credit 
their  eyes,  so  utterly  unexpected  and  extraor- 

343 


344        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

dinary  were  the  men's  panic  and  retreat. 
They  watched  in  perplexed  astonishment  the 
followers  of  the  dead  man  stream  southward, 
quickening  their  pace  as  they  advanced,  as  they 
passed  further  away,  appearing  to  experience 
a  growing  dread  of  what  had  happened,  a  sud- 
den horrified  realization. 

"And  all  that  is  left  of  them  is  Lantry  there 
in  the  office  and  the  drunken  sleepers,"  Kendle 
stated. 

Everyone  breathed  relief;  it  was  as  if  a 
weight  had  been  flung  off  their  shoulders,  a 
threatening  sword  removed  from  above  their 
heads. 

"But  who  fired  that  shot?"  Leschelles  ex- 
claimed, remembering  the  strange  mysterious- 
ness  of  it. 

"I  did." 

Hop  Spencer  spoke  the  words;  he  had 
joined  the  group  unnoticed,  and  now  stood  gaz- 
ing with  gloomy  brow  at  the  figure  before  the 
powder-house  door. 

Dukane  laid  a  hand  on  his  shoulder.  "You 
did  well,"  said  he.  "You  obeyed  orders  like 
a  soldier  and  you  saved  we  know  not 
what  greater  loss  of  property  and  life.  If 
those  ruffians  had  once  secured  the  dynamite 


A  NEW  REGIME  345 

the  whole  basin  would  have  been  at  their 
mercy." 

"I  fired  as  you  told  me,"  Hop  said.  "I 
didn't  want  to  kill  him — but  I  kind  of  felt  I  had 
to  when  I  saw  he  had  unlocked  the  door.  And 
I  knew  I  wouldn't  miss — I  had  killed  squirrels 
farther  away  than  that." 

"Think  no  more  of  it,  or  rather  think  proudly 
of  it." 

A  new  and  utterly  surprising  occurrence 
took  place,  one  which  was  a  fitting  and  dra- 
matic close  to  the  day.  Down  the  road  that 
followed  the  river  to  the  camp  a  large  high- 
powered  motor  car  rushed  into  sight,  swung  up 
the  slope  to  the  office  and  came  to  a  quick  halt. 
In  the  front  seat  the  chauffeur  sat  alone,  in  the 
tonneau  were  two  gentlemen,  dust-covered  and 
be-goggled.  They  pulled  off  their  glasses, 
stepped  forth  when  the  driver  sprang  down 
and  opened  the  door,  then  surveyed  the  spec- 
tators. 

"Where  is  Corbetson?"  one  asked  briskly,  a 
slender  gentleman.  "Hello,  is  that  Satter- 
field!  Where's  the  chief?" 

Satterfield  pointed  at  the  powder-house, 
whither  several  persons  were  hurrying. 

"He  is  dead — there  he  lies." 


346        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

"Dead!     Good  heavens!" 

"You've  just  missed  seeing  a  small  war,  Mr. 
Agnew." 

The  other  gentleman,  a  solid,  heavy-boned 
man,  who  stood  back  listening,  now  advanced 
and  thrust  a  telegram  into  the  engineer's 
hands. 

"What  does  this  mean?  Where  is  my  son, 
if  it  is  my  son  who  sent  it?" 

Satterfield  cast  a  glance  about  him,  but  at 
that  instant  a  subdued  voice  said : 

"Here  I  am." 

"Come  here,"  the  new  arrival  ordered. 

There  was  sternness  in  his  voice,  a  hint  of 
thunder,  and  it  was  therefore  not  without  trepi- 
dation that  the  youth  emerged  from  behind  the 
forms  of  the  other  men  where  he  had  instinc- 
tively sought  shelter  when  he  perceived  the 
identity  of  the  passengers  of  the  motor  car. 
For  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  felt  abashed,  felt 
his  earlier  assurance  melt  from  him  and  saw 
his  parent  looming  before  him  hugely.  Any 
man,  he  suddenly  acknowledged,  who  could  be 
master  of  not  only  one  project  but  a  dozen  like 
Silver  Peak  Reservoir  Dam,  who  could  at  his 
pleasure  make  men  move  individually  and  in 
the  mass  to  his  will,  was  a  man  to  be  respected 


A  NEW  REGIME  347 

and  feared.  He  saw  that  Dukane  senior  was 
infinitely  greater  a  man  than  Dukane  junior. 

"Come  here,"  his  parent  ordered,  and 
pointed  a  finger  at  a  spot  directly  in  front  of 
him. 

Jimmy  moved  to  that  spot. 

"Give  an  account  of  yourself.  What  have 
you  been  doing?" 

"I've  been  killing  people,"  the  youth  re- 
sponded, modestly. 

"I  don't  in  the  least  doubt  it." 

Jimmy  made  no  reply.  This  was  an  alto- 
gether different  reception  from  what  he  had 
planned  and  the  blood  rose  hotly  in  his  cheeks 
when  he  remembered  the  rest  of  the  group  who 
were  witnesses  of  his  humiliation.  And  Enid 
was  present !  He  gripped  his  palms  and  com- 
pressed his  lips  and  looked  his  father  belliger- 
ently in  the  face. 

"Well,  you  look  half-murdered  yourself," 
was  the  elder's  unsympathetic  comment,  after 
inspecting  his  son's  bandaged  eye  and  battered 
face.  "Now,  explain  this  telegram." 

"It's  correct,  sir;  I'm  in  charge." 

"By  what  authority?" 

Jimmy  gazed  at  the  ground.  This  was  the 
one  question  which  he  had  foreseen  hanging  at 


34-8        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

a  distance  like  a  black  cloud  and  now  it  was 
upon  him. 

"By  the  authority  of — of  eminent  domain," 
he  replied,  with  a  heaven-born  inspiration. 

Satterfield  never  showed  himself  more  a 
friend  than  at  that  moment.  He  had  seen  the 
younger  Dukane's  embarrassment,  distress  and 
shame;  he  knew  that  the  boy  found  it  more 
difficult  to  inform  his  father  of  what  he  had 
done  and  what  he  sought  to  do  than  he  would 
have  found  it  to  relate  to  any  other  person; 
and  his  own  chivalrous  nature  was  stirred  to 
speak.  Thereupon  he  drew  Jimmy  on  one  side 
and  addressed  the  newcomers. 

"Gentlemen,  you  have  arrived  at  the  very 
instant  we  had  succeeded  in  re-establishing  or- 
der in  the  camp.  The  events  which  terminated 
in  Mr.  Corbetson's  death  have  been  important 
and  considerable;  and  the  part  that  your  son 
has  played  in  them  has  been  not  only  conspicu- 
ous but  extremely  brave.  If  you  will  come 
into  the  office — and  the  rest  of  you  also — I'll 
give  an  account  of  what  happened  as  I  know 
it." 

"Very  well." 

For  half  an  hour  Mr.  Dukane  and  his  com- 
panion, the  manager  of  the  San  Francisco 


A  NEW  REGIME  349 

branch,  listened  without  comment  to  the  story 
of  Corbetson's  perfidy  and  the  youth's  single- 
handed,  uphill  investigation.  To  this  the  doc- 
tor, Leschelles,  Kendle  and  the  reporter  con- 
tributed. 

"And  who  is  this  young  lady?"  Mr.  Dukane 
at  last  inquired. 

Jimmy  quickly  led  Enid  forward.  "I  am 
pleased  to  make  you  acquainted  with  her,  for 
in  the  first  place  she  saved  my  life,  and  has 
consented  to  marry  me  in  the  second — and  I 
love  her  madly,  dad." 

"You've  not  yet  mentioned  her  name." 

"Enid  Crofton — and  there's  no  one  in  the 
world  like  her." 

"He's  quite  incorrigible,  sir,"  she  smiled. 

The  elder  Dukane  looked  at  his  son,  then  at 
the  girl  and  once  more  at  his  son.  This  was 
not  the  youth  who  had  flitted  about  Xew  York 
spending  money  in  idle  pleasure;  but  his  heart 
warmed  to  this  new  and  strange  son,  a  son 
whose  hands  were  brown  and  calloused,  whose 
clothes  were  a  workman's,  whose  face  showed 
the  marks  of  struggle,  who  had  suddenly  blos- 
somed forth  under  labor  and  blows  into  a  man, 
who  indeed  had  at  last  saved  the  name  of  Du- 
kane and  Company  from  dishonor. 


350       THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

"And  you,  Miss  Crofton,  is  it  true  that 
you've  consented  to  marry  this  good-for-noth- 
ing, disreputable  brawler?"  he  asked. 

Enid's  eyes  flashed. 

"How  dare  you  say  that!"  she  cried.  "And 
of  your  own  son!  He  has  acted  nobly  and  I 
love  him,  loved  him  long  before  I  knew  what 
his  real  name  was.  He's  not  disreputable  and 
he's  not  a  brawler!" 

"Your  vindication  is  sufficient,"  he  answered, 
with  twinkling  eyes.  "I  retract  my  statement. 
Come  with  me,  James."  Then  to  the  others. 
"I'll  ask  you  to  remain  here  a  little  while." 
And  he  led  the  boy  forth  into  the  air,  now 
golden  with  evening.  Slipping  his  arm  into 
his  son's,  he  said,  "Tell  me  all  about  it,  Jimmy." 

As  they  walked  through  the  camp  the  youth 
felt  his  restraint  melt  away,  felt  himself  drawn 
by  cords  of  affection  and  opened  his  heart  to 
his  father.  He  related  his  adventure  in  Mel- 
ton the  morning  following  his  arrival  in  that 
town,  how  he  had  been  robbed,  beaten  and 
thrown  out  of  the  hotel,  how  he  had  nearly 
starved,  how  he  had  been  stirred  to  curiosity  by 
the  peculiar  actions  of  the  station-master  in  han- 
dling the  cement  and  how  at  last  He  had  been 
pummeled  by  Miller  into  an  unwilling  agree- 


A  NEW  REGIME  351 

ment  to  work.  Followed  an  account  of  his 
painful  toil  at  the  mixing  machine  and  on  the 
wagons,  of  his  suspicions  of  Corbetson,  of  his 
discoveries  in  the  store  and  of  his  final  struggle 
with  the  dishonest  chief. 

He  pointed  out  the  smouldering  ashes  of  the 
bunk-houses ;  they  strolled  to  the  mixer  where 
Jimmy  narrated  how  Callahan  had  lost  his  arm; 
and  then  they  passed  to  the  dam.  Each  inci- 
dent was  painted  in  glowing  colors  by  Dukane 
junior's  awakened  imagination;  and  the  youth's 
father  heard  and  questioned  and  smiled  to  him- 
self. 

When  they  stood  on  the  dam  overlooking  the 
rushing  water  and  considered  the  infamous 
work  wrought  under  the  dead  chief's  hand,  Du- 
kane senior  experienced  a  profound  emotion; 
the  reputation  which  he  had  built  up  by  a  life- 
time of  work,  a  reputation  for  honest,  careful 
substantial  work,  had  been  imperiled  by  one 
crafty  man  and  had  in  the  end  been  saved  by 
his  own  son,  his  own  flesh  and  blood. 

"I've  much  to  thank  you  for,  my  boy,"  he 
said,  in  an  agitated  voice,  "I  can  never  repay 
you." 

"Oh,  yes,  you,  can!" 

"Name  the  way." 


352        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

"Let  me  build  it;  give  me  Satterfield  and  the 
others  to  help  and  let  me  build  it  right.  I  don't 
know  much  about  cement,  but  I'm  learning. 
When  I'm  done,  it'll  be  a  dam  to  be  proud  of." 

Half  a  minute  Dukane  senior  considered  be- 
fore replying : 

"Take  it,  you've  earned  the  right." 

Down  the  long  sloping  road  blasted  out  of 
the  canyon  wall  they  went  on  their  return  to 
the  office.  Jimmy  pointed  across  to  the  oppo- 
site side,  relating  how  he  had  run  thither  to 
rescue  Enid  Crofton,  receiving  a  scolding  for 
it  and  losing  his  heart. 

The  camp  had  assumed  once  more  an  air  of 
tranquillity;  men  moved  about  freely  and  at 
peace,  the  figure  of  the  dead  chief  had  been 
borne  away,  smoke  no  longer  rose  from  the 
ashes  of  the  burnt  bunk-houses  and  the  cooks 
were  busily  engaged  preparing  supper  for  the 
loyal  workmen.  Over  all  the  valley  the  ame- 
thyst light  was  slowly  deepening  to  purple. 
The  subdued  music  of  the  river  floated  upon 
the  air,  while  beneath  it  ran  the  deeper,  muffled 
diapason  of  the  echoing  canyon. 

"That  always  made  me  think  of  you,  dad," 
Dukane  junior  said,  pointing  at  Silver  Peak. 

The  mountain  rose  silent,   sufficient  unto 


A  NEW  REGIME  353 

itself,  solid  and  massive.  The  white  crest 
shone  in  the  last  rays  of  the  sun  which  touched 
it,  marked  in  strong  contrast  to  the  lower  crags 
and  the  black  forest-clad  flanks.  An  air  of 
dominating  calm  rested  upon  it  and  its  bulk 
commanding  the  surrounding  hills  and  moun- 
tains, over-shadowing  the  Basin,  exercised  a 
powerful  and  benign  influence.  After  the 
events  of  the  day  and  week,  after  the  long  pe- 
riod of  distrust,  suspicion,  contempt  and  hatred 
felt  for  Corbetson,  after  the  dangers  escaped 
and  the  hardships  endured  it  seemed  to  extend 
a  benediction.  As  Jimmy  gazed  at  it  there 
came  into  his  heart  a  sudden  rush  of  affection, 
of  good  cheer,  of  comfort,  happiness,  and  joy 
for  the  world  at  large.  The  obstacles  that  had 
blocked  his  path  here  were  swept  away,  the  pas- 
sions that  had  pressed  and  flowed  about  his 
person  in  angry  currents  were  quieted ;  and  was 
it  not  after  all  the  spot  where  he  had  gained 
his  manhood,  won  his  battle  and  found  his 
love? 

"Now,  what  of  this  young  lady?"  Dukane 
senior  inquired. 

That  was  the  magic  word  that  unlocked  the 
fountain.  Jimmy  poured  forth  a  panegyric 
of  Enid's  beauty,  courage  and  virtues ;  he  gave 


354.        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

an  account  of  their  growing  friendship  and 
love,  with  the  final  denouement  of  her  rescue 
when  he  was  in  the  hands  of  Lantry  and  his 
men  on  top  of  the  ridge. 

"You  will  marry  her  then?"  the  father  asked, 
smiling. 

"This  minute,  if  she  would  agree." 

"I  imagine  it  would  be  necessary  to  obtain 
her  consent.  She  seems  a  young  lady  with  a 
mind  of  her  own." 

"Of  course,  I  wouldn't  marry  any  other 
kind." 

"And  after  you're  married,  what  are  your 
plans  to  support  her?" 

Jimmy  looked  at  his  parent  out  of  the  corner 
of  his  eye. 

"When  I've  finished  with  the  dam,  I'll  have 
to  go  to  work  as  a  day-laborer  again,  I  im- 
agine, unless  Dukane  and  Company  finds  my 
services  so  valuable  it  can't  afford  to  lose 
them." 

His  father  laughed  outright. 

"We'll  try  and  find  something  to  employ  you 
at,"  he  assured  his  son.  "What  about  this 
Lantry?  He  must  be  prosecuted  of  course." 

"Certainly.  He  is  an  untamed  brute. 
We'll  run  down  Corbetson's  affairs,  see  just 


A  NEW  REGIME  355 

how  much  he  robbed  the  company  of  and  try 
to  recover  as  much  of  his  spoils  as  possible. 
Satterfield  is  the  real  engineer  of  the  camp — 
he'll  look  after  the  actual  building.  I  want  to 
put  Hop  Spencer  in  charge  of  the  store,  for  he's 
stuck  by  me  like  a  true  friend  and  he's  a  crip- 
ple. I'd  like  to  send  the  station-agent  at  Mel- 
ton to  prison  for  his  share  in  Corbetson's  plot, 
though  I  don't  believe  he  profited  by  it  to  any 
great  extent,  but  for  the  sake  of  his  wife  who 
fed  me  when  I  was  starving  and  treated  me 
like  a  human  being  when  everyone  else  was 
giving  me  kicks,  I'll  let  him  go."  Then  with 
a  sudden  thought,  Jimmy  stopped  and  ex- 
claimed. "How  did  it  happen  you  arrived  so 
soon?" 

"We  were  on  our  way  here  in  a  special  train 
when  your  telegram  as  well  as  a  digest  of  the 
newspaper  account  was  wired  to  us  from  San 
Francisco,"  Dukane  senior  explained.  "I  had 
taken  up  the  search  for  you  in  person — and 
since  at  Melton  you  vanished,  at  Melton  I  de- 
cided to  begin.  We  were  on  our  way  here 
when  this  news  that  something  unusual  was 
taking  place  quickened  us.  A  telegram  from 
you  after  weeks  of  silence  seemed  unbelievable." 

"You  must  stay  a  day  or  two  and  become  ac- 


356        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

quainted  with  Enid  and  her  father,  with  Sat- 
terfield  and  Leschelles  and  the  doctor — they're 
fine,  every  one  of  them  and  honest  as  daylight. 
And  then  there  are  Callahan  and  Casey  and 
Miller  and  Hop  Spencer,  you  ought  to  know 
them,  for  they're  square  and  real  men  even  if 
they  do  work  for  day  wages." 

Mr.  Dukane's  eyes  twinkled.  "I'll  be  glad 
to  meet  them.  Perhaps  they'll  be  able  to  throw 
side-lights  on  your  adventures  here.  Miller, 
for  instance,  who  brought  you  into  camp." 

In  front  of  the  office  they  joined  the  others 
who  waited.  A  plan  had  already  been  made 
by  Enid  Crofton  whereby  the  newcomers  were 
to  be  guests  at  the  ranch-house  so  long  as  they 
remained  in  Silver  Peak  Basin. 

"I  jump  at  the  chance,  for  I  want  to  become 
better  acquainted  with  my  daughter-to-be,"  he 
said  taking  and  pressing  her  hand. 

Enid  regarded  him  a  full  minute  before 
speaking. 

"Why,  you're  not  a  terrible  man  at  all!"  she 
cried. 

"Of  course  not,  I'm  yery  ordinary,"  he 
smiled,  at  this  naivete. 

"But  Jimmy  pictured  you  as  heartless." 

"Jimmy  and  I  both  had,  I  learn,  a  mistaken 


A  NEW  REGIME  357 

notion  about  each  other.     And  now  let  us 

go." 

Away  from  the  office  the  motor  car  circled, 
amid  the  waved  adieus  of  the  men  who  re- 
mained, and  spun  swiftly  up  the  road  to  the 
Crofton  ranch. 

"Your  son,  sir,  looked  nothing  like  you  when 
first  I  saw  him  riding  into  camp  on  a  freight 
wagon,"  Enid  stated  to  Mr.  Dukane. 

"The  world  had  used  me  pretty  rough,"  the 
youth  said.  "But  I  wouldn't  have  missed  it, 
that  and  the  rest  which  has  happened,  for  a  mil- 
lion dollars."  And  he  gave  Enid's  hand  a 
little  squeeze. 

That  evening  after  supper  while  Mr.  Crof- 
ton entertained  his  guests  upon  the  broad  ver- 
anda the  pair  of  lovers  strolled  across  the  lawn 
to  where  the  brook,  hidden  by  the  gloom  of  the 
bordering  trees,  murmured  over  its  bed  of 
stones  on  its  way  to  join  the  river.  High  in 
the  sky  the  stars  shone  bright  and  large,  for  the 
moon  was  not  yet  risen.  In  the  north  the  dark, 
vague  outline  of  Silver  Peak  stood  forth  like  a 
sentinel,  a  silvery  sheen  disclosing  its  snow-clad 
head.  Over  all  the  valley  was  silence,  save  for 
the  murmurous  streams,  and  peace. 


358        THE  INCORRIGIBLE  DUKANE 

"How  strange  it  all  seems  now!"  Enid  said. 
"After  the  fight  on  the  ridge  up  yonder  last 
night,  after  all  the  uncertainty  and  suspense 
and  strife  of  to-day,  how  quiet !  You  have  won 
your  victory,  sweetheart,  and  you  were  right, 
always  right,  in  your  suspicions,  in  your  aims, 
in  your  endeavors." 

Dukane  caught  her  within  his  arms  and 
strove  to  distinguish  her  face  and  see  her  eyes. 

"Best  of  all,  I've  won  you.  We  shall  live 
here  when  we're  married  until  the  dam  is  fin- 
ished, but  though  we  may  go  away,  our  love 
shall  be  always  fresh  and  enduring." 

"And  sometimes  we'll  come  back?" 

"Sometimes,  yes.  We'll  stand  on  the  ridge 
up  there  and  look  down  upon  the  great  lake  of 
water  which  the  dam  holds  and  recall  all  that 
took  place  on  this  spot." 

She  crept  closer  within  his  arms. 

"I  shall  always  love  you  best  as  you  used  to 
be,  tired  and  ragged  and  battered." 

The  youth  sighed. 

"Jimmy  Hemple  is  gone  forever;  I  wonder 
if  his  ghost  will  sometimes  haunt  the  lake  ?  But 
Jimmy  Dukane  will  love  you  far  better  than 
Hemple  ever  could." 


A  NEW  REGIME  359 

And  the  brook  listening  to  his  words,  whis- 
pered them  to  itself  as  it  slipped  away  to  the 
river,  these  words  and  others  of  love  and  loy- 
alty and  devotion. 


THE  END 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


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